


What We Have To Be

by FeralPen



Series: a thought, dear, however scary [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Secrets, Team as Family, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-07-20 05:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16130930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralPen/pseuds/FeralPen
Summary: They're happy. Things are good. And then suddenly they're not.Dynamics shift, and suddenly the things lurking in the shadows seem a lot more pressing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 4! 
> 
> I don't think I'll say much about it just yet. Please enjoy.

She woke up to rooster crowing.

Jessica threw the pillow on top of her head and groaned. The blind-accessible alarm clock’s mechanical crowing continued until Matt rolled and reached over her to turn it off. He pressed a quick kiss to the exposed back of her neck and slid out of bed. Jessica just grumbled more and squeezed the pillow tighter over her ears.

She finally got out of bed when the shower rattled on through the old pipes. Her jeans and socks were tucked under the bed, and she dug a spare hairbrush out of the bedside drawer to yank the worst of her snarls loose. Her sleep-deprived steps stumbled her into the kitchen. The coffee maker stood as the last beacon of hope to a dying man.

It would have been awfully domestic were it not for the bruises and scrapes decorating her arms and the split knuckles on her hand. She was pretty sure she’d left plaster dust in the pillowcases from her hair, but such was the life of a part-time vigilante. If she’d wanted a boring life, she wouldn’t have gotten her PI license or decided to start regularly hanging with other superpowered freaks to fight petty crime in the streets of New York at night. She definitely wouldn’t have decided to start sleeping with the most suicidal of all of them. She’d made her choices, and standing in Matt’s kitchen measuring coffee grounds out with the early-morning light streaming through his big, open windows, she couldn’t bring herself to regret any of it.

The shower shut off with one last protesting creak of the old shower knob. She threw some bread into the toaster and leaned onto the counter to watch Matt emerge in a cloud of steam with a stupidly plush towel wrapped around his waist.

“How bad’s the bruising?” she asked.

It was a redundant question. She could see even from across the room that the red splotches from the night before had darkened into a rainbow blossom of purples and blues.

“None of the ribs are broken,” Matt said. He shook some water droplets from his hair in a doglike fashion. “I’ve had worse. You?”

“Same,” she said. Enough coffee had collected in the pot for her to pour some out into a mug, which she selfishly hoarded to herself. Matt huffed one of his quiet little laughs at her and wandered off to go put on his lawyer costume. Jessica’s toast popped up. She rummaged through the fridge and found some raspberry jam. She took her spoils to the table and busied herself with returning to a vaguely human form. 

Matt breezed past her - now dressed in one of his cheap, but well-fitting suits. She listened to him pour himself some coffee and make his own toast. Her eyes closed on their own as the hot, bitter coffee warmed up her cold, sad soul.

Matt kissed her head as he walked past her to sit down. “I can only guess what expression you’re making, but I’m assuming it’s adorable.”

Jessica cracked one eye open to squint at him. “I’m never adorable, Murdock. I’m terrifying.”

“Truly.” He took an unimpressed bite of his toast. “You’ve definitely struck fear into my heart.”

“As I should.” She sniffed haughtily and finished off her toast. “Big court day today?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s that tenancy case. I doubt they’re going to want it to go all the way to court. We’ll probably end up negotiating a settlement today. Other than that, I have a meeting with the discrimination case, and two more interviews with potential clients.”

“Any of them going to pay you?”

He just smiled a cryptic smile and sipped his coffee.

Jessica rolled her eyes and took her dishes to the sink. Matt surprised her by following her to the kitchen to latch onto her from behind.

“We don’t have time for a quickie,” she said flatly. “I’ve got to go feed Iggy.”

“Mm, I’m not after that. Right now, at least.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “I dunno. Something’s different about you lately. You smell different. Not bad-different. Just different. I like it.”

It was one of those terrible, crystal moments of clarity. Later, she wouldn’t be able to say exactly how she knew, but she knew.

Someone dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. After a moment, she realized that was just her shock. She shook her head and pulled away from Matt’s arms and his soft, confused noises.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Is everything okay, Jess?” Matt was tilting his head at her. His glasses-less face was open and quizzical. 

“It’s fine,” she said mechanically. “I just remembered something I need to do. I have to go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She dodged his reaching hand and dived for her discarded boots and jacket in the living room. Matt’s shocked expression followed on her heels.

“Sorry,” she said shortly. “I just - It’s fine. Don’t worry. I just have something I have to do.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat and nodded. “You do that. I’ll talk to you later.”

She practically ran out of the apartment and made her way through the crowded streets towards her building. She ducked into a pharmacy along the way. She hurried through the morning commuters with her bags and finally leaped up the steps to her building and the relative calm and quiet. 

She locked her frosted glass door and briefly considered buying a “Closed” sign for days like today. Iggy dragged her out of that thought by running up to meow piteously and try to claw his way up her leg again.

“Ow! Down, you stupid cat,” she said without heat. She set her bags down on her desk and took a minute to refill his food bowl and check the ridiculous water fountain that Matt had insisted on buying for him. He seemed to get a huge kick out of buying over the top, expensive cat toys with a glee that betrayed that this was definitely his first pet, no matter how he insisted that the betta fish he’d had in college counted as a pet. Satisfied that the meowing monster wasn’t going to starve to death in the next ten minutes, Jessica grabbed one of the bags and went to the bathroom.

She pulled the innocuous little box out of the bag and set it on the counter to glower at it. The box didn’t move or change, but she still stood staring at it. Her stomach roiled around the bit of sugary toast and coffee that sloshed around in there. Her hands were sweating. She cursed and picked up the box to read the instructions.

The instructions weren’t helpful. They hadn’t changed at all since the last time she’d done this. She set the box down again and clenched her fists.

“This is stupid,” she said out loud.

She grabbed the box again and tore it open. Two pregnancy tests fell out into her hand.

She cursed again and nearly dropped them. She shouldn’t be this freaked out. She hadn’t had her period in… well, it had been a while, but she’d never really been regular. Possible exposure to radioactive chemicals and super strength and unhealthy amounts of stress and bad life choices - yeah, she hadn’t ever been regular. It was fine. She’d probably start later today. She didn’t need to take the test.

She’d nearly convinced herself to put it off, but the niggling panic that had set in at Matt’s reared up again. She wavered and finally dropped one on the counter and dragged her pants down. She’d piss on the stick, it would be negative - they always came back negative it was fine - and she could move on and go back to her life.

She set the test down on the counter and tried to leave the bathroom to go open her laptop. She ended up wandering back into the bathroom to peer at it. Unchanged. She wandered back out and got the soda she’d bought from its bag on the table and watched Iggy chomp on his food for a minute. The test seemed to magnetically draw her back in.

She determinedly sat on the edge of the tub and looked at her phone. It had only been five minutes. She could wait. She pulled up the news and read a few articles and got her attention sucked into an actually interesting science journal post. She finished the article and was surprised to see that the time was up. She stood and scrutinized the test. Her phone slipped through her numb fingers and clattered onto the floor. She barely noticed. The test stared back at her.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” she said with increasing volume. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to -

The little lines indicating “pregnant” stared back at her, harsh and unrelenting.

“It’s a fucked up test,” she decided. She threw it in the trash and grabbed the other one. It wouldn’t be the same result twice. 

This time she hovered over it the entire time. It didn’t change.

She needed the call Trish. She snatched her phone up from the ground and jabbed at the screen with her shaking fingers. The screen warped and blurred in her vision, but she finally got to Trish’s name.

The phone only rang twice before Trish’s voice crackled out of it. “Jess? Are you okay?”

Jessica inhaled sharply. Her breath caught in her chest halfway through and flirted with the idea of becoming a sob. Her eyes were very very wet. “Trish…”

Trish’s voice was sharp. “Jessica? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” she forced out. “I… I don’t know what to do, Trish. I need… I need help.”

“I’m coming,” Trish said decisively. “I’m at the studio. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“But your show,” she protested. 

“It’ll be fine. We already did the first segment. We can play reruns. I’ll be there soon.”

Trish ended the call before Jessica could argue. She set the phone down on the counter next to the test. She felt numb and overexposed all at once. The tub beckoned to her, so she climbed inside and curled up as small as she could. The cold, coated metal walls hugged around her and she relaxed a little. She listened to Iggy wrestle with one of his jingly mice in the next room.

She listened, too, to the sound of a key turning in her lock. She tensed. Malcolm.

“Hey kitty,” she heard him say to Iggy. “Got food already, huh? Guess Jess must have made it home. Jess? Are you there?”

She bit her lip and curled up tighter in the tub. Maybe he would go away.

The flaw in this plan was that Malcolm was her PI apprentice, therefore too nosy for his own good, and she’d left the bathroom door hanging wide open. She dragged herself upright in the tub just as Malcolm turned the corner and peered in.

“Jess? What are you…” He trailed off. His sharp eyes darted around the exposed evidence. Jessica wilted further.

“Go away,” she said.

“Jess, are you-?”

“Go away!” she said more forcefully. Her heart clambered up her throat.

Malcolm seemed to get it. He nodded frantically and backed up with his hands held up in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said in that damned soothing voice of his. “I’m backing up, I’m leaving. Do I need to call someone? Matt? Trish?”

She shook her head. “Trish is coming.”

Malcolm nodded again. “Okay. Good. Still want me to leave?”

She nodded. “Please.”

He nodded again and turned to leave.

“Wait -” She bit her lip. “Don’t - don’t say anything. To anyone.”

Malcolm’s face was soft and gentle. He was so gentle sometimes, it hurt her to watch. “Of course I won’t, Jess. I’m sorry I even know - it’s private. Sorry for busting in. If you need anything…”

She nodded silently, so he nodded at her again and left.

She sank back into the tub to wait for Trish. That had been a disaster, but she nearly trusted Malcolm. He could be discreet. He might not even be weird about it.

Trish got there fairly quick after that. Jessica dragged herself out of the tub to let her in.

“Jess, what’s wrong?” Trish crowded into the room and looked her over with those sharp eyes of hers. “Did something happen?”

Jessica took her time shutting and locking the front door. She brushed past Trish to sink onto her horrible couch. Trish was still there, her hands a flutter of expensive watch and nervous energy.

“I’m pregnant.”

She watched Trish’s face flit through several expressions before she forced them down to a very careful neutral.

“You’re sure?”

“Unless two tests in a row were wrong.” It was a slim hope. Her cheeks felt numb. She couldn’t guess her expression.

Trish carefully sat down next to her and reached for her hand. “It’s… It’s Matt’s?”

Jessica stared at their twined fingers - her own chipped black polish and bruises and Trish’s practical short nails with professional polish. “I haven’t been with anyone else.”

She felt the nod more than she saw it. Trish’s voice was level. “Do you know how far along you are?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember my last period.”

“You never got regular, did you?” Trish’s hand tightened on hers. “And pills still make you sick?”

“Yeah. We’ve been using condoms.”

Trish inhaled long and slow. Jessica risked a glance at her. Her brows were wrinkled, but she still looked calm. “How… What can I do, Jess? What do you need?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice caught halfway through. Her eyes felt wet again. “I don’t - Trish, I…”

Trish nodded decisively. She stood up. “Okay. I have a plan. Stay with me for a while.”

Jessica’s eyes followed her sister. “What?”

Trish looked determined. “This is a lot, and I think you need some time to process before you make any decisions. I’ll help you with whatever you need. Get you a doctor, get you an appointment to… Whatever you need. But I think some time outside of your normal space will be good. Help you think.”

She thought about saying no. Jessica Jones didn’t ask for help. But this was Trish, and _this_... this wasn’t something she knew what to do with. She was completely out of her depth here. She found herself nodding.

That was all the affirmative Trish needed. She turned into an efficient packing tornado that managed to get an overnight bag filled with anything she’d need - from underwear to a phone charger - packed in ten minutes.

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready,” Trish said.

Jessica glanced around the apartment and didn’t find anything she was lacking. She nodded and grabbed her keys and phone. Trish hefted the bag and they made their way to the door. Iggy peered at them from his bed with one suspicious eye.

“Will the cat be okay?” Trish asked.

Jessica nodded. “Malcolm checks on him every day anyway.”

She stopped at Malcolm’s door. Her apprentice answered at the first knock.

“Yes?” His terrier-quick eyes took in the scene outside of his door. “How long?”

Jessica just shook her head. “I don’t know. Can you keep an eye on Iggy?”

“Of course.” Malcolm gave her a long look. “What do I tell Matt? You’re going to tell him where you are, right?”

She didn’t answer. She followed Trish down the hall.

“Um, cool, then. See you whenever,” Malcolm muttered.

Jessica hunched her shoulders and punched the button to the elevator.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt. An appointment. Gyros. Honesty. Sisterhood. Bravery.

_”Hey, Jess, this is Luke. Just wondering where you are. No one’s heard from you in a couple days. Matt’s freaking out. Just call us.”_

_“Jess. It’s Danny. Just letting you know that everyone’s worried. Your phone’s still ringing, so I… I dunno. Just call someone please. Matt’s…”_

_“Jess. It’s Matt. You said we’d talk. Please pick up your phone. I’m worried.”_

_“Jessica. Are you okay? Please call me back.”_

_“Hey, it’s Colleen. I’m sure you’ve heard from everyone already, but if you’re in trouble, if you need help, we’re here. And if you need space… Just shoot a text or something. We’ll leave you alone.”_

_“Hey, Jessica. Matt came by. He asked me where you were. I said you’d gone to stay with Trish. He wants to see you. I told him not to follow you there. Said you needed space. He’s hurt, man. He looks like crap. Can you call him or something? He’s really worried.”_

_“Jessica, please. Did I do something wrong? Are you okay? Just call me back. Please.”_

Jessica stared at her phone. She didn’t really see the screen. She set it back down.

“Are you ready?” 

Trish was waiting. Jessica stood up and smoothed her sweaty palms on her jeans. She shoved her phone into her pocket and followed Trish and the nurse into her room. The women’s and children’s hospital. She felt sick.

“So, are you two a couple?” The nurse asked.

“She’s my sister,” Trish answered for her. The nurse nodded genially and handed Jessica a gown. 

“Change into this, please, As you don’t know your LMP, we’ll have to take an ultrasound, and we need a pap smear anyway.”

Jessica nodded and took the gown. The nurse left them. Trish squeezed her shoulder.

“You can do this,” she said. She almost believed her.

The rest of the exam was a whirlwind of invasive questions and poking and prodding and blood tests and a battery of questions about her medical history and lifestyle. Trish held her hand through it all.

“Well,” the older woman doctor said. “It’s just a guess, but I’d say you’re about six weeks along now.”

Six weeks. She’d had this little passenger inside of her for six weeks. Her head spun.

The doctor sensed her turmoil. She gave her a professional pat on the knee. “I’ll give you some pamphlets, some samples. If you’d like, the front desk can set you up for your next prenatal appointment.”

“Thank you,” Trish said for her. “I think we’d like to just go home for now.”

“I understand.” The doctor gave her an encouraging smile. “For what it’s worth, congratulations.”

Jessica didn’t really remember leaving the doctor. She zoned back in when Trish parked her car.

“I’m running in to grab a gyro,” she told her. “Want to come in or wait?”

Jessica shook her head and went back to staring at her hands. Trish nodded and locked the car. She came back ten minutes later with bags that smelled like tzatziki sauce and grilled meat. Jessica’s stomach growled.

Trish started driving back to her apartment building. “So, have you come to any decision?” Her voice was deceptively casual.

Jessica shook her head. Her phone buzzed. Matt was calling again. She watched it buzz and buzz until it went silent. Thirty seconds later her phone buzzed again with a new voice message.

“What are you going to tell him?”

Jessica shook her head and got out of the car as soon as it parked. Trish jogged to catch up. She didn’t say anything else as they rode the elevator up to Trish’s reinforced, safe apartment.

“Am I crazy?” Jessica asked.

Trish gave her a strange look and handed her a wrapped gyro. She ushered Jessica over to the couch and filled some glasses with water from the kitchen.

“I’m…” Jessica swallowed hard and tugged on the wrapper. Her stomach was roiling again. She wasn’t sure if she was starving or nauseated. “I know I’m not a good person.” She held up her hand to stall Trish’s protest. “I know I’m… messed up, and I don’t live a good life. I’m not anywhere approaching a good role model.”

“But…” Trish said. She looked like she understood.

“But I want this baby,” Jessica blurted. Her eyes felt wet again. “Am I crazy? I - I’d be a terrible mother, I should get rid of it. This is such a bad idea, but… I want to keep it.”

“So keep it,” Trish said. She took Jessica’s shaking hands in hers. “What’s stopping you?”

“I’m an alcoholic PI who fights crime. What kind of mom would I be?”

“A good one,” Trish said firmly. “Jessica… You’re so much more than you think you are. You’re loving and kind and smart, and I think you’d be a great mother.”

Jessica’s voice was small. “But what if Matt doesn’t want it?”

Her sister’s lips pinched together. “I don’t know Matt that well, but I know he’s crazy about you. And if he doesn’t want to be a dad, then it’s still your decision. He doesn’t have to be in the baby’s life. We could raise it together. Lesbians do it all the time.” Jessica laughed a watery laugh at that and Trish grinned. “And you know Danny will spoil it rotten, and Colleen will be thrilled. And Claire will insist on making you take your vitamins and eat kale, and Luke will try to be Mr. Tough Guy, but he can’t even keep it together around kittens. You’ve got friends now, Jess. I know we can figure this out.”

Jessica breathed in deeply. “Maybe you’re right, Trish.”

“Sure I am,” Trish said with a smug grin. “Eat your gyro before it gets cold. Just know, Jess, that whatever you decide, I’m behind you 100% of the way. No matter what.”

She nodded and ripped the wrapper off of her food. She picked up her phone. Before she had time to chicken out, she typed out a message as clearly as she could so Matt’s phone reader wouldn’t garble it completely.

_I’m sorry._

_I need to talk to you._

The reply came two bites into her wrap.

_Jessica. I was worried. When and where?_

Another text before she could reply.

_Your place tomorrow question_

She wiped her greasy fingers on a paper towel and typed back:

_Your place tonight?_

_Yes please thank you_ was the reply.

Jessica nodded and set her phone down. She felt calmer now that she’d finally answered Matt’s frantic calls and texts.

Trish gave her a knowing look over her carton of greek pasta salad. “Matt?”

Jessica nodded. “I’m going to talk to him tonight. I can’t keep hiding here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded again. “You’re right, Trish. Even if he hates it and hates me, I still have the rest of you. I need to get this off my chest before I run and hide any longer.”

Trish practically beamed. “I have to say that I’m loving this new you. Forming a superhero team really worked out, didn’t it?”

“Don’t say ‘I told you so,’” she grumbled. The thought of talking to Matt made her feel a little queasy all over again, but she could do this. She was Jessica Jones. She never backed down from a challenge. Mostly.

She shoved the gyro into her mouth and shoved the anxiety down with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part 2. I'm sorry that I don't have the emotional spoons in me to reply to all of your comments personally, but I adore them all. Thank you for your feedback and please, enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long-expected conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to save this for Saturday, but I have work. I'm trying not to post too fast.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?” Trish asked for the sixth time. “I could find somewhere to park.”

“It’s fine,” Jessica said yet again. “If I need to, I can get a cab. Hopefully, I won’t need to.”

“Okay.” Trish didn’t sound convinced, but she pulled over and let her out of the car regardless. “If you change your mind -”

“I’ll call you. Geez, it’s like you’re my mom or something.” She rolled her eyes, but she still smirked when she said it. Trish flipped her off, which prompted an even wider smirk.

“Good luck,” she called.

“Thanks.” Jessica shoved her hands in her pockets and hopped up the steps to Matt’s building. The familiar old brick walls brought their own sense of comfort. One of the nearly-deaf old ladies that lived downstairs gave her a suspicious glare from the mailboxes. Jessica waved at her just to be annoying.The neighbor was suddenly very busy looking at the advertisements in her hand. New York neighborliness at its finest.

Matt must have heard her pounding heartbeat, because he was at the door when she got up the stairs. His red glasses covered his eyes and part of his eyebrows. What she could see looked carefully neutral. He’d taken off his suit jacket and shoes, but his tie was still on - albeit loosened - and he hadn’t changed into anything comfortable. His shoulders strained the lines of his shirt.

“Jessica,” he said. His tone was flat.

“Matt.” She hesitated on the landing. Matt seemed to jolt out of his funk. He pulled away from the door and gestured inside. She swallowed around her dry throat and followed him.

His apartment was as drafty and echoing as ever. She shut the door and moved to the living room. Matt hovered around the kitchen.

“Drink?” He asked.

She didn’t trust her voice. She grunted a negative and stood by the coffee table. Matt made for the couch. He had a way of moving sometimes that reminded her of a jungle cat, all lean sinuosity and calculation. She saw it in action now. He stalked around her bubble of space, at once a predator and trying to make himself seem small and harmless. He didn’t want to spook her again, she knew. She waited until he was seated before she spoke. She dug the toe of her boot into the rug and focused on that.

“I was scared,” she blurted. “I ran away. I was scared. I’m sorry.”

Matt carefully didn’t move. A snuck glance reflected his red lenses back at her.

“I shouldn’t have ignored your calls,” she continued. “I should have at least answered you. You deserved that much. I was just… scared.”

“Of what?” There it was, that not-quite-hidden note of irritation, anxiety, anguish. His lawyer voice never quite covered it all. “What - What scared you?”

She chewed on her lip. There was a dry flake on the bottom one to worry at. For all that she’d rehearsed this afternoon, the reality was much more terrifying.

“Jessica?”

She took a deep breath. Now or never. “I went to the doctor this morning. To be sure.”

His hand came up involuntarily to nudge his glasses. He didn’t take them off. “Doctor?”

“I’m -” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “I’m pregnant, Matt.”

Her chest ached. The room was cold. Matt said nothing.

She looked at him. His hand was frozen in the air next to his glasses. His lips were parted in a tiny ‘o.’ With jerky movements, he tugged the glasses off and threw them on the table. His now-exposed eyes darted around her face. He slowly dragged his face back into a poor caricature of calm and neutral.

“How - How long?”

“Six weeks.” Her voice was the barest whisper, but she knew he heard. “They say its heart should start beating this week.”

His lips trembled. She watched his tongue dart out to wet them. His voice was hoarse. “And it - you’re… what are you wanting to do?”

She closed her eyes. At least he didn’t ask if he was the father. That would have been far too insulting and cliche. She chewed her lip again. “I haven’t really decided yet, but… I think I want to keep it.”

A wet sniff had her eyes shooting open. Matt’s head was bowed, but she saw droplets falling to the rug. She darted forward to crouch next to him.

“Matt?”

He sniffled again and dashed the tears away with his fist. “Sorry, I just - Sorry. I’m - I’m sorry.”

“You’re… How are you feeling about this?” She bit her lip again.

“I - I don’t know.” He reached his hand out for hers, and she took his. His hands trembled in time to the shaking of his shoulders. He lifted his head to angle his face towards her. “I never - Honestly? I thought with the chemicals, I’d - or with the fighting, or - I thought I’d die before being a father ever became a question. I never considered…”

“Yeah, neither did I…”

They were silent for a moment, save for Matt’s quiet snuffles.

“If I did…” She hesitated, but she needed to get all her options on the table. “If I did decide to get an abortion… Would it change things between us?”

He took his hand back to anxiously run it through his hair. He chewed his words before he said them. “Things are already different now,” he finally said. His voice was still crackly from tears. “This - this changes things. And I’d like to say that it wouldn’t - that I wouldn’t look at you differently, but I can’t lie to myself. I don’t know how it would change things, but it would. I’m sorry.”

She just nodded. She’d expected as much. She rubbed her flat belly thoughtfully.

“I know,” Matt blurted, but hushed and continued in a quieter voice. “That ultimately, it’s your decision. I know. But if you want to know what I think?” She made an affirmative noise, so he continued. “I think… I’m not the best man in the world. I’ve done… terrible things. Things I haven’t even told you about, Jess. Things I’m ashamed of. I’m not a good man. I don’t deserve to be a father, but…” His voice broke, and the tears started flowing from his eyes again. “If you - if you’ll give me the chance, I would… I would like to have this baby. Please. If… If you want to, I…” 

He was sobbing in earnest, now. Jessica was horrified to realize that she had tears streaming down her own face. She scooted closer to him, and was surprised when he slid off the couch to join her on the floor. She crawled into his arms. They both stayed that way for some time, sobbing on the floor like idiots.

The sobs slowed, then stopped.

“We’re keeping this baby,” Jessica whispered.

Matt’s breath caught in his chest. His arms tightened around her.

“Yeah?” he said.

“We’re going to be terrible parents.” She felt oddly calm about this in the post-crying fugue.

“Probably.” Matt hummed and nuzzled his nose into her hair. “We have Claire, though. She’s going to be great.”

Jessica laughed quietly and nuzzled closer to him. “This kid is going to have so many aunts and uncles.”

They didn't say what they were both thinking. It’s never going to be alone. Never going to be a lost orphan, cut loose with no family. God damn it, this kid was going to be loved.

“It’s late,” she said.

“Would you like to stay?” Matt tried for neutral, but he sounded so hopeful and soft. Her eyes felt wet again. She was blaming hormones.

“Only if you put on pajamas,” she said gruffly. “And we take this cuddle party to the bed.”

“It’s a deal.” Matt pulled them both to their feet. He hesitated, but then he very gently leaned in to kiss her softly. He pressed their foreheads together for a moment and they just breathed. “I love you.”

She nodded jerkily. Matt took her hand and led her to the bedroom. The silence as they changed into soft clothing was familiar, comfortable. Matt lay down first, and Jessica scooted in close to him. She wasn’t usually much for cuddles - taking them sporadically when offered, mostly avoiding them - but she needed the closeness tonight. Matt wrapped his whole body around her. She finally let herself relax.

“We’re going to be okay,” Matt said. She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. “This isn’t - we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” she confirmed.

He nodded again. She snuggled impossibly closer to him. 

“Does anyone else know?”

“Trish,” she answered. “She was the one who took me to the doctor. And Malcolm, but that was an accident.”

“Ah…”

They lapsed into silence again.

“How are we going to tell the others?”

She swallowed heavily. This part she didn’t know. Matt seemed to be brainstorming.

“Next time we meet up on the roof?” 

“Can we wait a little longer?” She chewed on her lip for a minute. “I kind of… want to keep this just for ourselves. Just for a little while.”

“Our little secret?” Matt’s voice was warm. 

She put her hand over her flat belly. Matt’s hand covered her own.

“Our little secret,” she confirmed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night terrors. Comfort. Parents. A small injection of much-needed humor.

She woke at the crack of dawn to the bed shaking with shuddering sobs and soft whimpers.

Jessica was alert immediately. The sun hadn’t even properly risen yet. The grey pre-dawn light lit the room just enough that she could see the curled-up shape of her lover half-covered by his comforter. His nightmares were usually nearly-silent, but this morning he shook and wept and cried out. She reached out and touched his spasming shoulder.

He let out another quiet cry. He was calling for his dad.

Her heart felt bruised. She gently tried to shake him awake.

“Matt. Matt, wake up. It’s a dream. Wake up, Matt.”

She could tell the moment he woke up. His whole body fell still. She had the feeling he was reaching out with his senses, searching and probing for threats. He always did this. Every nightmare, all of his tears, it was always as quiet as possible.

Was he always like that, or had he been conditioned?

She was too scared of her own reaction to ask.

“You awake now?” She cautiously scooted closer. He didn’t flinch away.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

She grabbed a nearby box of tissues and pulled out a wad for him. When he didn’t take them from her hand, she gently blotted at what she could see of his face. He reached up at that, took the tissues to sit up and blow his nose. His face was mottled red.

She scooted a little closer. He opened his arm in invitation, so she crawled forward until she could embrace him. They tumbled back flat onto the bed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He was silent. She thought it was a no until he spoke up.

“I dreamed about my dad.”

She didn’t say anything, just gave him space. His throat bobbed, and he dabbed at his nose again.

“I was the one who found him, you know?” She didn’t, but she nodded. “He was on his way home. I heard the gunshot. I knew - I just knew it was him. He was supposed to be coming home.”

She blindly groped out, caught the edge of the tissue box. She dragged it closer and handed him another one. He blew his nose again.

“I identified his body.” Matt’s voice was choked. “I wasn’t even ten years old yet. I found my dad’s body in an alley. I touched his face. I felt… I felt the gunshot that killed him.”

Her breath hissed at that. Her hand found his and she squeezed.

“I try not to remember it. I’ve… I’ve had plenty of other bad shit happen since then, but you know. It’s just a sob story. Poor blind kid, can’t catch a break. Has to feel his dead dad’s face. It’s bullshit.” He let out a long, shaky sigh, seemed to draw strength from it. “I hadn’t thought of it in a while. The nightmare just… It just got me. I still see sometimes? In my dreams? So I guess my brain took my memory of it with my memory of what my dad used to look like and tried to figure out what he must have looked like then. When his brains got splattered in that alley. It’s happened before. I just… wasn’t expecting it.”

She squeezed his hand harder. He pulled their twined hands up and kissed her hand. They lay in silence for a few minutes. Jessica watched the light of the rising sun slowly brighten the interior of the apartment.

“I don’t want to do that,” Matt said decisively. Jessica craned her head back around to look at him. His mouth was set stubbornly. “I don’t want to do that to my kid. I don’t… The world doesn’t need more orphans. I can’t do that to our kid, Jess.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He turned his face to match her stare. “Maybe… Maybe it means it’s time for me to stop.”

Her heart hammered in her ears. “Stop what?”

“Stop being Daredevil.” The words came out and he looked sick. “Maybe I shouldn’t… risk my life like I do, if it’s not just my life at stake. I couldn’t bear… I couldn’t bear to make a kid lose its father. You know how it feels. What kind of monster would I be?”

She didn’t have an answer. She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s… It’s more than I’ve thought, actually. I don’t… it seems sudden.”

He still looked lost. He nodded. “It’s just a thought. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” she said simply. “That’s fine. Thinking is fine.”

They lapsed back into comfortable silence. Matt lightly traced his fingertips over her hand.

“What were your parents like?” He looked embarrassed as soon as he said it. “Sorry, that was sudden. I just… You never talk about them. All I know is that they’re… not here anymore.”

Jessica swallowed. As a rule, she didn’t talk about her family. Most people never thought to ask. The wound, whenever she prodded it, was still raw and fresh. Guilt had wormed down into it like a black rot. She would try, though. For Matt.

“They…” She swallowed and tried again. “They were… pretty boring.”

“Yeah?” Matt’s tone was neutral, careful.

“Yeah… They weren’t, uh, semi-famous boxers in Hell’s Kitchen.” Matt chuckled a little. She felt emboldened. “They were very WASP-y. My mom was a professor. She taught math. My dad was a mechanic. Our life was very, very normal. Very boring. But it was good, you know? Like the life you see on tv. Mom and dad both worked nine to five. Two kids, boy and girl. Family eats breakfast together every morning. Dinner together every night. Shitty vacations. It was… It was good.

“And my mom, she was so smart. She could do long division in her head, she was so smart. She was disappointed when I didn’t have that knack. I was the weird goth kid, really. Did photojournalism, was good at stupid stuff. History, English, computer stuff. I was okay at math, but not like she was. I tried to play it off like I didn’t care, but I wanted her to be proud of me.”

She couldn’t say any more. Her throat was closing up. She didn’t talk about this stuff. Matt squeezed her hand.

“Thank you,” he said. “It was nice to hear you talk about them. I appreciate it.”

She nodded mutely.

“Wanna go get breakfast?” he was smirking before he could finish his statement. “You’re eating for two after all.”

Trust Murdock to ruin a mood. She punched him very lightly in the ribs and he laughed.

His laughter dried up instantly. He looked pale. He turned to Jessica.

“Oh my God,” he said. “We’re having a baby.”

She blinked and nodded.

“We’re having a baby.” he repeated. “Oh my God.”

“Are you… okay, Matt?”

“Jessica,” he said urgently. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

Neither did she, and his panic was catching. “We can buy some books. We’ll figure it out. It can’t be that hard. Feed it, water it, change its bedding…”

“It’s a baby, not a hamster.” He was still freaking out. He got up and paced the floor - up and down the length of the bed. “Fuck, I’ve never even owned a hamster. How can I take care of a baby?”

“Didn’t you grow up in an orphanage? There weren’t babies there?”

He stopped pacing and shook his head. “They didn’t let the blind kid with sensory processing disorder and anger management issues around the babies, and all the babies got adopted out, anyway. Most of the kids that stuck around were older or defective.”

Her eyebrows shot up at that. “Defective?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. Bedwetters and disabled kids and the bitey ones.”

She shook her head. “There were bitey ones?”

“Sharp teeth,” Matt confirmed.

She reached out and grabbed his hand to stop him before he started pacing again. “I guess I’ve had a few days to get the freaking out out of my system, but I need you to calm down. You’re freaking me out.”

He immediately deflated. He sat back on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just… a lot.”

“It is. But we’ve got like seven or eight months to get our shit together.” She smirked. “We took down the Hand in less than a week. Surely we can figure out how to take care of a baby in eight months.”

“You’re right,” he said. He sighed and seemed to steel himself. “You’re right. I’ll get some audiobooks. We’ll… We’re going to do this.”

“We are,” she confirmed.

Mattt surprised her by swooping in and kissing her. It was a surprisingly passionate kiss, and she could feel her heart begin to race. He pulled back and grinned at her.

“You’re amazing,” he told her. “I love you so much.”

She shook her head softly and dragged him back down on top of her. 

“Then show me how much,” she said.

Breakfast could wait a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, Matt's comments and opinions do not reflect the author's. He and Jessica will continue to say and do problematic things, but they're deeply troubled people, really. They're trying their best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica alone. A long, slow panic. Salespersons. Malcolm is responsible. Jessica has a lot on her plate. Hope.

Little secrets - tiny secrets with tiny heartbeats too quiet for even Matt to hear - didn't mean that life just stopped.

Breakfast was good, but it was a Thursday. Matt worked his own hours, but he still had clients to tend to in the afternoon hours. He left her at the diner with a pained expression and a lingering kiss with the promise that he would stop by her place after he was done. 

Jessica scuffed her boots on the sidewalk and huffed. She probably needed to go home, get Trish to give her back her stuff, deal with Malcolm and the open cases she'd dropped. She didn't want to. This little bubble of life outside of the norm felt good - removed from the reality that she had to integrate this new reality with her real life. Going home meant crossing the bridge into actually dealing with things.

She decided to skip it for now. She could do some window shopping. Her feet led her from one display window to another. She wasn't really seeing the displays. Her brain seemed trapped in a loop of anxiety. She finally pushed her way into a department store to wander some more.

Her traitorous subconscious led her directly to the baby section. She looked over the cribs and car seats and play yards and strollers and a chaotic mess of some kind of swinging play-thing? It was a lot to take in. Everything was color-coded with little animals in greens and blues and lurid pink frills. She didn't even know if she was hoping for a boy or a girl. She couldn't even imagine this formless passenger of hers turning into a little boy or little girl. The idea was ludicrous.

She moved on before one of the salespeople could get ideas.

She trailed her fingers over tiny little clothes. Her hand hovered over a multi-pack of socks so small she was sure she couldn't fit more than her thumb inside. Her heart ached.

“Are you finding everything alright, ma’am?”

Damn salespeople. She jerked her hand away, tried not to look caught out. The woman raised her eyebrows.

“I'm fine,” she blurted. “I was just looking. Um, actually…” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Do you guys sell books here?”

The woman's face smoothed into a professional smile. “I'm afraid we don't have more than a small display. Popular novels.”

Jessica shook her head. “Thanks. I'll find a bookstore.”

The lady left her to her devices. Jessica glanced over the shelves of baby clothes one more time. There was a little knitted cap that looked like a teddy bear. She stared at it. Its little eyes stared back at her. She picked it up to scowl at it.

It was fucking adorable.

She hated it.

She needed it.

She decided not to think too hard about it, and she ended up buying the damn thing.

She shoved the tiny cap into her jacket pocket and strolled out of the store to find the nearest used bookstore. There, at least, the clerks didn't spare her more than a glance when she stomped in and found the nonfiction section.

It took some digging to find the pregnancy and child-rearing books, but she found them eventually. The colorful covers and pictures of smiling women with big, round bellies and bright-eyed babies made her heart flutter uncomfortably. With a curse, she grabbed a handful and stomped back to the counter. 

The clerk was smart enough not to comment on her book selections.

She couldn't dally any longer. It was time to face reality. Her feet took her along familiar streets until she was heading up the steps to her apartment building. The Alias sign winked at her as she made her way down the hallway. When she tried the knob, it turned easily. Her eyebrows shot up.

Inside, Malcolm looked up from where he was sitting - at _her_ desk with a client.

“Ah, Jessica.” He turned back to the man across the desk. “This is Jessica Jones, the lead investigator.”

She wiggled her fingers in a nonchalant wave and walked past them. She listened to Malcolm give the client the usual spiel and contract as she stashed her bag of books and ditched her jacket on the bed. She moved into the kitchen to fish a bottle of water out of the fridge just as Malcolm walked him to the door.

Malcolm joined her in the kitchen a moment later. He seemed skittish.

“You're taking cases on your own now?” She didn't look at him, instead rifling through the cabinets for a snack.

“Well, I didn't know how long you would be gone, and if we don't make money, we can't keep the lights on. I just thought…”

Jessica turned to look over her shoulder at him. He was twisting his hands together.

“That's good,” she said.

“Good?” Malcolm blinked at her. “You're not mad?”

She smirked. “Why would I be mad?”

“I… don't know. I was just… you're really okay with me taking on my own cases?”

“As long as it's nothing dangerous,” she said.

He laughed scornfully. “No, just another guy wondering if his wife is screwing her yoga instructor.”

Her smirk widened. “Then it's fine with me. I know you can handle it. Just be careful with my camera if you borrow it. It's fucking expensive.”

“Noted.” He hesitated and watched her go back to her search. 

“So,” he said finally. “Are you… okay?”

Jessica closed her eyes and sighed quietly. Her back was still to him. She pulled a sleeve of crackers down and ignored his question while she found some cream cheese in the fridge and a butter knife. She hopped up to sit on the counter and open her snacks.

“I'm okay,” she said. 

“And your… problem?”

She finished smearing her cracker and shoved it into her mouth.

“We're keeping it,” she mumbled, crumbs spilling out of her mouth.

There was silence. She prepared another cracker before she looked at Malcolm again. She quickly looked away at the incredulous joy building on his face.

“You're-” he glanced around and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper -”You're having a _baby?_ ”

She scowled at him. “Yeah, and?”

“You're - I can't believe this. Jess, this is -”

“It's _what_?”

His smile lit up the room. “This is amazing! Oh my god, Jess, this is going to - wow. And Matt is happy about it?”

“Happy might be a strong word,” she said dubiously.

Malcolm smiled. He looked like he wanted to hug her. “I'm happy, if that helps. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said. She almost believed it.

Malcolm caught on. His joy faded. 

“You sure? It's a lot to take in.”

“I said I'm fine.”

She hopped down from the counter and walked away from him - towards the bedroom.

“I don't need you to follow me,” she said before he could say anything. “I just… need a minute. Go… research clients or file papers or something.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, the understanding little goblin. “I've got some more appointments this afternoon. If you feel better later, you can join me?”

She didn't answer, just retreated to her room and flopped on the bed.

It was stupid. She'd had time. She should be fine. But suddenly it all seemed to be crashing down on her again. 

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the tiny hat. Her thumb traced over its little ears and eyes. It's cute little face wavered and shivered until the first tear dripped out and tickled down her face to her chin.

Stupid. So stupid.

Stupid or not, she couldn't stop her breath from stuttering out of her in shorter and shorter gasps that left her chest aching and pulling. Broiling tears poured out of her eyes and she curled tighter into herself. Stupid, stupid. She was better than this. She could do better than this.

It was long, excruciating moments before she gathered her thoughts enough to start her familiar chant.

“Main Street.” She was in her room. Malcolm was in the main room. It was safe.

“Birch Street.” She was pregnant. This was a fact. This was okay. It was okay.

“Higgins Drive.” She was Jessica Jones, God damn it, and she was going to survive this. That's what she did.

She got out of bed. The little cap was still in her fist. She uncrumpled it, smoothed it out. The little bear face stared back at her. She gently set it on her side table.

She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She was tired. So tired. She shook her head, dried her face. She stepped out into the main room.

There were new case files spread across the desk. Malcolm gave her a small smile. She smirked back.

It was normal. It was good. She could do this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt struggles, as Matt does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sick and a little depressed lately. Posting this chapter to cheer myself up. I really enjoyed writing this one. I'm kind of stuck in a rough spot in chapter 9 right now. I enjoy writing Matt's point of view more than Jessica's, honestly. I struggle not to give Jessica my voice. Matt comes easier.
> 
> I'm excited for season 3 tomorrow. Note that this fic tackles speculative season 3, so it is going to be AU, perhaps informed by canon but not adhering to it. The plot for this fic was ripped from my first Daredevil fic that I never published because I decided to write Spray Paint Love instead.
> 
> I've rambled enough. Please enjoy.

Sixteen hours.

That was approximately how long it took for Matt to truly process everything that had happened.

He ducked out of his tiny rented office space and made his way to the bathroom he shared with the neighboring offices. He splashed some water on his face and breathed. He was sure that this was the point where an action hero would gaze searchingly into the mirror for answers. He didn't have that luxury, and he wasn't an action hero. He tightened his tie back up and tapped back to his office.

Breathe. Compartmentalize.

If he was someone like Luke or Danny, he could walk away now and find someone to punch. No, punching to process was bad, the little voice that sounded like his therapist said. Openness, not secrecy. Honesty, not violence.

He sighed and put his fingers back to his Braille reader. His whole soul may cry out for Daredevil right now, but his real life as Matt Murdock had obligations.

He dutifully played his part. He met with clients, he counseled, he was attentive and professional. The entire time his fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on his leg.

He pulled his burner phone out as soon as the last client left. His finger pressed the 3 down until his speed dial kicked in. He held the phone to his ear.

“It's still daylight, Red,” the voice on the other end growled instead of a simple greeting.

Matt was used to it. “I need to talk to you, Frank. Tonight.”

Frank didn't ask questions. “Your place?”

“Yes. And Frank… bring any intel you have on Wilson Fisk.”

Frank was silent for a good moment. 

“You got it, Red,” he finally said. 

The line disconnected.

Matt clenched and unclenched his fist. First part done. He had to take care of this soon. He'd been putting it off. He'd pretended it would go away on its own. He no longer had that luxury.

His mind strayed to Jessica. His firey Jessica, painted in his mind’s eye in cool blues with the impressions he'd sensed of her face. Jessica with her quick wit and her scathing intelligence, always keeping him on his toes. Jessica, the woman of a hundred contradictions, hands that soothed wounds and punched down buildings, voice that scolded and confided by turns, the hard shell that now had a tiny, fluttering life harbored inside.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret that tiny, fluttering little creature. Its existence drew him in inexorably. Now that he knew of it, he would do anything to protect it.

He forced his mouth out of its grim line and called Jessica on his normal phone.

“Hey,” he said. “Want me to grab dinner?”

“Oh shit,” she said.

Matt frowned. 

“I forgot we said we'd meet,” Jessica continued. “I actually went back to Trish’s. I was having dinner here.”

“Oh,” he said eloquently.

“I'm sorry,” she said. She sounded sincere.

“No, it's fine,” he said. He forced himself to laugh. “It happens. I have some stuff I should be working on, anyway. Say hi to Trish for me.”

“I will. You're not going out tonight, are you?”

Dammit. “Um, maybe? I mean, probably not, unless I hear something bad.” His mouth wouldn't stop lying. “I'm still a little punchy from the news. Maybe not the right mindset for crime-fighting.”

He fancied he could hear her blinking. 

“Uh, okay. Well, I'm gonna go back to my place after dinner. I'll be there if you need me.”

“Got it.” He smiled thinly. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” she said. “See you.”

He put his phones away and gathered his things. The dark mood he was in closed in around him like a cloud. 

He punched his desk and closed his eyes. The pain grounded him. Collected his thoughts. He couldn't afford to lose it.

There were a few hours until nightfall. 

He went through the motions. Walked home. Scrambled some eggs for dinner and listened to a podcast. Tidied up. The whole time his mind blurred and whirred along a tangled pathway of what-ifs. 

Matt heard Frank coming as the minutes ticked by into sundown. He was on the roof and waiting in his Daredevil suit when Frank clambered over the edge.

“You waiting for me, Red?”

Matt curled his lip into a smirk.

“Did you bring it?”

Frank scoffed. “All business, huh? No, I didn't bring shit. What you want me to do, bring you a memo?”

“But do you know anything?” Matt was impatient.

“Keep your panties on.” Frank leaned against the edge of the roof and pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket.

Matt leaned forward. Frank only smoked when he was stressed. He gritted his teeth while Frank lit up and inhaled. The rooftop was cold and wet.

“I got some people who know some shit,” Frank said. “Fisk is up to his usual bullshit. Got everyone in Rikers bending over backwards to kiss his ass. Rumor has it he has a plan to get another day in court. Something about a mistrial.”

Matt listened to him inhale once again. His teeth ached.

“Other than that, the bastard’s quiet. Not a peep. He's gonna say he's been an ideal prisoner. Nonviolent.” Frank scoffed. “If he does get that shit together, you're in real trouble, Red. He's gonna come for you.”

Matt swallowed. His voice came out in a rasp. “I fucked up, Frank.”

Frank stilled his nervous movements. “What’d you say?”

“I fucked up,” he repeated. “I think he knows, Frank.”

“What, knows you're the one under the mask? You sure you're not just being paranoid? The man's a fucking virus, but he don't know everything.”

“I might be,” Matt said quietly. “But I can't take the chance. I've got too much at stake.”

Frank shifted in his perch. The gravel crunched under his boots. 

“Don't we all?” He inhaled deeply. The roof stank of sweet smoke. “Don't worry about it. He's already on my list. I'm gonna blow his fucking head off.”

Matt froze. Hesitated. It would be easy.

So easy.

He wouldn't even have to lift a finger.

Wilson Fisk would just

Stop

Stop being a problem.

Stop being a threat.

Stay away from his family.

Just -

Stop.

“No,” he heard his voice say.

He heard Frank's quiet sigh. He sounded tired.

“Why the fuck not? Why do you care?”

“We can't just kill people.”

“He's barely a fucking person, Red. You really think someone like Fisk is gonna change? Stop being a murdering piece of shit?”

“We can't be like him,” Matt said quietly.

“Too fucking late.” Frank's voice was steel. He crushed his cigarette under his boot. “You can hide and pray and do your moralistic bullshit, but you know what happens when Fisk gets himself out? He comes after you, but he also comes after your friend Foggy. He goes after Karen. And you know what?”

He'd come closer. The two men were nearly chest to chest now. Frank's skin was warm, his breath smelled like fast food, mint, and cigarette smoke. Matt closed his eyes under his mask.

Frank's voice was soft. “You think, if it comes to leaving Fisk alive or protecting Karen, you think I will even hesitate?”

“You're not the only one with someone to lose,” he said tiredly.

“Then don't let them get lost.”

Frank pushed away from him. Matt didn't follow.

“I'll stop you,” he said.

“I know you'll try,” Frank answered.

Matt nodded. He hadn't expected more than that.

Frank hesitated at the roof’s edge.

“If I see something coming your way,” he said. “I'll take care of it. I won't let him hurt you. Any of you.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

Frank didn't answer. 

Matt stood still for a moment and just breathed in the city. He needed to punch something.

The voice that sounded like his therapist told him to call Foggy. He squashed it down. The city would produce what he needed. He just needed to listen for it.

There - an armed robbery two blocks over. Matt went to work.

The funny thing about fighting was that it was mostly training, but the rest was all mindset. Matt knew he could take down multiple opponents of similar skill level simply because he was ruthless and confident. He could take on opponents stronger than him by being slippery and enduring. His muscles knew the moves, but it was his will that let him win. Going into a fight with the wrong mindset could be a death sentence.

That's how he ended up crawling through Foggy’s fire escape three hours later with a limp.

To Foggy’s credit, he very nearly hit Matt with the bat that went flying at his head.

“Holy shit, Matt, you scared the piss out of me,” Foggy gasped. He dropped the bat, and Matt let himself slump into the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“God, you look like shit.” Foggy's knees hit the floor with a thump. Matt felt hands tugging at his suit. “You got into a fight?”

Matt wheezed a laugh. “More like five.”

He reached up and undid his helmet so Foggy could fuss over him. 

“Did you hit your head? Is anything broken? Do I need to get you to the Clinic?”

“I'm fine,” he mumbled. His swollen lip made talking difficult. “Need ice. Aspirin.”

“Got it.”

He started undressing as he listened to Foggy grab one of the ice packs he kept in the freezer and a glass of water. He was out of the top part of the suit when Foggy got back.

“Those bruises on your ribs,” he observed. “Those aren't fresh.”

“Got ‘em like four days ago?” It seemed like longer. He swallowed the aspirin and gingerly put the ice pack to his lip.

“So who kicked your ass tonight?” 

He and Foggy had come a long way, but every time he came to him hurt like this, echoes of old fights colored the conversation. Foggy would never quite reconcile his friend choosing to fight crime in the street instead of the courtroom. They were doing better at meeting in the middle. Some nights more than others.

Matt reached out where Foggy seemed to be and grabbed onto his shirt. 

“I was stupid,” he said.

Foggy snorted, but his heart rate increased.

“You're always stupid, but you have a specific example?”

Matt gestured to his body. “I just wanted to fight. I needed… I need to fight, Fogs.”

Foggy grabbed his hand and tugged him up. 

“Okay, buddy. This conversation can wait until you're in some comfy clothes.”

“But Foggy,” Matt whined.

“No buts.” Foggy efficiently stripped him out of his armor and got him settled into the clothes he kept at his apartment. “Now talk while I make tea.”

Matt gave himself a moment to inhale the comforting smell of himself and Foggy that had soaked into the shirt he wore. Foggy's apartment always tempted him with creature comforts. Speaking of, Foggy's cat, Big Mama, jumped up on the couch to rub herself on Matt. He ran his fingers through her fur absently.

“I was upset,” Matt said. “So I found a fight. And I punched people until I felt better.”

Foggy's heart pounded. “Do you need to call Joan?”

Matt shook his head. His therapist didn't deserve being disturbed late at night for his stupid angst.

“Just a suggestion. I'm no therapist, but what exactly upset you, Matt? Are you and Jessica fighting?”

Matt flinched and shook his head. “We - No, we're not - that's not it. It's…”

Every instinct screamed to shut up and let Foggy have his warm apartment with his soft cat and his radiator and tea bags of herbal tea and just leave him out of this. He deserved better.

He deserved the truth.

“Wilson Fisk is coming after us,” Matt said.

The apartment was silent. Matt listened to Foggy's heart pound and the electric kettle gurgle.

“How do you know?” Foggy asked.

Matt curled around the cat in his lap. “I asked Frank to keep an eye on Rikers for me. On Fisk. He's planning on getting his sentence thrown out, Foggy. Say we messed something up in the case. And once he's out, he's going to come for us. You and me and Karen. We took him down. He's going to return the favor.”

Foggy's breath was measured and steady, but his heart was a painful thump in Matt's ears.

“Do we have a timeline on this?” 

Matt shook his head. “I won't let him hurt you, Foggy. Or Karen. Or - Or Jessica. She's involved now, too. You're all in danger because of me.”

The kettle clicked off. Foggy poured out two mugs.

“Don't take all the credit,” he said mildly. “You may have been beating him up in the night, but Karen and I also chose to pursue Fisk. We chose it, Matt. So don't beat yourself up over it.”

“How can I not?” He buried his fingers in Big Mama's fur instead of clenching his sore fists. His face ached. “If you get hurt, I…”

“I can't lie, Matt, I'm scared.” He laughed weakly. “Who wouldn't be? But we'll figure this out, Matt. We've been through worse. And we've got friends now. Misty. Danny and Colleen. Jessica and Trish. And you think Luke Cage is going to let his lawyer get popped by some freakishly strong rich guy with expensive suits? No way. I'm valuable, dammit.”

Matt didn't laugh. He looked up when he heard Foggy walk towards him.

“Handle’s on your right,” Foggy said. “It's hot. Be careful.”

Matt took the hot mug and cradled it. The cat mewed grumpily and darted away.

“There's something else bothering you.”

Matt couldn't hide his reaction. His mouth turned even more downwards. His heart sped up.

“Secrets aren't good, Matt,” Foggy said mildly. The couch sank. His leg was a warm line against Matt's. “They just eat you up inside. Better just to spit it out.”

“It's not my secret to tell,” he said. “I wish I could. I just… can't. Not until… you'll know eventually, okay?”

Foggy seemed skeptical, but he kept his mouth shut. They sipped tea in silence.

“Are you going to tell Karen about Fisk?”

Matt shrugged. “Frank might tell her? Besides, Frank wouldn't let anything happen to her.”

“This is true. He'd fight a bear naked in a blizzard if he thought she'd want that.”

“That's really gross and specific, Fogs.”

“He'd look good doing it,” Foggy justified. He laughed at Matt's indignant expression. “Hey, I have eyes. And a working imagination. But on a heavier note, we'll be careful. I'll get Hogarth to help us prepare a case. We'll review the first case. Whatever he comes at us with, we'll be ready.”

Foggy sounded so certain. Matt was tempted to believe. He couldn't. It was too easy. And when had anything in his life been easy?

“You worry too much, old friend,” Foggy said. He slapped Matt's knee and stood up. “You staying the night, or you heading back home?”

He didn't want to go. The warmth from the mug soaked into his aching fingers. Foggy's couch conformed around his body. He was drained.

“I should go,” he said. He made no move to stand up.

There was a quiet rush of air that must have been Foggy waving his hand.

“Save it, Murdock. I know your ‘about to pass out Foggy's stuff’ face. Like the laundry.”

“That was one time.”

“Have you ever walked in on your roommate snuggled in your clean laundry? It's weird.”

He didn't know the half of it. “If I didn't have super-hearing, I would have walked in on way worse.”

Foggy's teeth clicked together with how quickly he shut his mouth.

“Okay, one, that's a gross breach of privacy. Two… actually I don't have a two. I just wanted to say that. Just take the damn couch, okay? I'll text Jessica and let her know you only have the burner.”

The mention of Jessica sent his insides into anxious turmoil. His teeth creaked under the pressure. 

“Are you sure you two aren't fighting?”

Matt forced himself to unclench his fists and relax his jaw.

“We're fine,” he said.

Foggy didn't believe him, that much was evident. He decided against arguing. He shook his head and went into the bedroom.

Matt found the large, fluffy throw Foggy kept on the couch and wrapped it around himself. Foggy's couch hugged his body. He was tired.

Going out tonight was a mistake. The thing about mistakes, though, was that you never quite realized how bad they were until after you'd made them.

He curled up tighter in his cocoon. He'd visit Claire in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Private investigators in training. The sisters discuss.

Jessica's phone rang just as she was running Malcolm through how to use her camera one last time. She held up a finger for Malcolm to wait, and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jess,” Trish answered. “Are you busy?”

“Not really. Getting Malcolm ready to take on a couple of cases.”

“So you're free? You never called me back, and I still have your stuff here. I can bring it over, or you can come over…”

She glanced at Malcolm. He was carefully putting her camera in its travel bag. He looked ready. He even had a taser on him. He gave her a thumbs up.

“I can come over,” she said. “But we've got to get some dinner. I'm starving.”

“Deal,” Trish said. “See you in twenty?”

“Yeah. See you.” Jessica hung up. She turned on Malcolm. “You have everything?” 

“I think so,” he said. He seemed slightly jumpy. “It's just taking pictures, right?”

“Yeah, and not getting beat up. Be smart. It'll be fine. Go catch some cheaters and make us some cash.”

Malcolm grinned at her and shouldered the camera bag. He gave her a small wave and left the apartment.

She felt a little bittersweet, watching him go. Like he didn't need her anymore. And she guessed he didn't. He was fully licensed now. He could join one of the bigger offices or start his own practice. Yet he stayed with her in her dump of an office. The boy had loyalty, if nothing else.

She threw on some warm clothes for the walk to Trish's apartment. The streets were still icy and cold. Everything was trapped in a post-Christmas fugue as everyone came down off the high of the holidays. 

She took the time as she walked to shoot some texts off to the rest of the Defenders and Defenders-adjacent. Mostly just a “Yeah, I'm alive it's fine” kind of thing. Colleen immediately sent her a row of heart emojis. She smiled and stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

Trish's building was warm and quiet. The doorman barely glanced at her. She made her way up to Trish's apartment and waited while she punched her in.

“Jessica!” Trish opened the door with a smile.

“Shouldn't you be recording your talk show?”

“Pre-recorded session.” Trish stepped aside and shut the door behind her. “So, spill.”

“Food first.” Jessica's stomach growled for emphasis.

Trish blinked. “I don't know if you realize this, but you sound like Danny.”

She made a face. “That's gross.”

“No, really. I've never seen you eat this much. Is it your metabolism?”

“Probably?” Jessica shrugged and went to raid the kitchen. “I'm not a doctor. I'm just hungry.”

She ignored Trish's skeptical noises and dug around in the fridge. There was a jar of jam in there somewhere.

“I have food coming, you know,” Trish said.

“I'm hungry now.” Jar found, she grabbed a spoon and hopped on the counter.

Trish had her hands on her hips. She shook her head and seemed to decide against commenting. The spoon scraped against the jar.

“I was going to wait until the food got here, but I guess now's a good a time as any.” She leaned against the counter across from her. “So, how'd it go?”

“How'd what go?”

“Telling Matt of course!”

Jessica smirked around her spoon. “I know what you meant. I'm just drawing it out.”

Trish huffed and crossed her arms.

“It was fine,” she said. She ate some more sickly sweet jam. “He wants to keep it, too.”

Her sister's face lit up. “Oh, Jess, that's great.”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I mean, it's a lot to take in. He's doing… okay.”

She wasn't sure how much she could say. The whole thing felt intensely private. Even Trish, she thought, didn't deserve that little slice of intimacy.

“I think it's going to work out,” she said instead.

Trish was saved from replying as the doorbell rang. Jessica's phone also decided to buzz at the same time. It was the devil himself.

“Hey,” he said. “Want me to grab dinner?”

“Oh shit,” she said.

There was an awkward pause on Matt's end.

“I forgot we said we'd meet,” Jessica continued. “I actually went back to Trish’s. I was having dinner here.”

“Oh.” He sounded dumbfounded.

Guilt worked its way into her guts. How had she forgotten something like that?

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“No, it's fine.” He laughed in a slightly-stilted way that made her guts squirm more. “It happens. I have some stuff I should be working on, anyway. Say hi to Trish for me.”

“I will,” she said. “You're not going out tonight, are you?” It was icy out there, and she didn't like the thought of him patrolling alone. Maybe Colleen was free tonight?

“Um, maybe?” He sounded even more awkward now. “I mean, probably not, unless I hear something bad. I'm still a little punchy from the news. Maybe not the right mindset for crime-fighting.”

Trish was setting the food out on the table. Jessica narrowed her eyes. He was definitely acting strange.

“Uh, okay. Well, I'm gonna go back to my place after dinner. I'll be there if you need me.”

“Got it. I love you.”

“Yeah,” she said lamely. Maybe she was over thinking it. “See you.”

He hung up on her, and she pocketed the phone with a frown.

“Was that Matt?” Trish asked.

“Yeah. I forgot I told him we'd grab dinner today.”

“Oh.” Trish looked honestly concerned. “He's not upset, is he?”

She shook her head and sat down. Trish handed her a plate.

“No,” she said. “He's acting strange, though.”

“How so?”

“I'm not sure. He just seems like he's hiding something.”

Trish's eyes widened. “Oh my God, do you think he's planning on proposing?”

Jessica nearly choked on her mouthful of chicken. “What? No!”

“You told me he's, like, seriously Catholic,” she said reasonably. “Maybe he's going to try to make an honest woman of you.”

“That ship has sailed,” Jessica said firmly. “I don't think he's that stupid.”

“He's a man, Jess.”

“True.” She picked at her food. “He wouldn't do that, though. He knows how much I hate surprises.”

Trish's face turned wistful. “You really love each other, don't you?”

Jessica didn't answer. Trish knew enough to read her silence for what it was.

“In any case,” she said briskly. “I'm going to go ahead and set up your next doctor's appointments. And I bought some prenatal vitamins and some anti-nausea lozenges, and I've started making a baby registry at Target for you. I've already ordered a carseat for my car - you're going to love it, it's adjustable.”

“Trish, slow down.” Her head was spinning. “I only decided to have the baby yesterday.”

“It's never too early to be prepared,” she said defensively. She picked up a broccoli with her fork and waved it at her in admonition. “I know you're not going to think of these things, so I'm helping.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, but her mouth quirked into a smirk without her permission. 

“At least you're not planning a baby shower.”

The silence was guilty now.

“Trish, no.”

She waved her phone at her. “I may have made a Pinterest board for you… or two.”

Jessica groaned and sat back in her chair.

“I'm not going to do all that.”

“Why not? It's not every day that you have a baby.”

“Just drop it,” she snapped. “Please.”

Trish held up her hands in surrender. 

“Okay, I'll back off.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“So have you thought about names yet?”

“Trish!” She slammed her hand down on the table, making the silverware rattle.

“Alright, alright.”

Trish steered the conversation to safer waters after that. Soon, Jessica was relaxing into witty anecdotes about Trish's forays into the New York socialite scene and how much she hated so-and-so and what's-his-face is so pretentious and did you know Tony Stark actually showed up at a party, but Trish wasn't able to break through the throngs of admirers to talk to him. 

“Who needs Iron Man anyway,” she said. “I already know the best superheroes in New York.”

Jessica snorted, but didn't correct her this time. Not when Daredevil was an internet sensation, and the Heroes for Hire were on the news almost nightly. She was just glad that Jessica Jones was less flashy and exciting than the others. She liked her privacy too much.

Trish cleared up their plates while Jessica left to go get her overnight bag from Trish's room. The bag was on the bed like she'd said, but something was different. Her PI senses were tingling. She followed her intuition over to the ajar closet.

As soon as she flicked the light on, she groaned quietly. There was that damned box from Dorothy with the files about IGH. They were haphazardly stuffed back in. She crouched down to look at the top papers. There was her file, and a notebook covered in Trish's handwriting next to it. Her dinner gurgled uncomfortably in her stomach.

“I can explain,” Trish said from behind her.

Jessica whirled on her friend. “Why are you digging into this?”

Trish crossed her arms stubbornly, but her fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on her arm.

“I was going to talk to you about it,” she said. “That is, until this week happened. I swear, I didn't want to stress you out.”

“You didn't want to stress me out?” Jessica got to her feet and stood as tall as she could. “Too late for that! You're digging into my shit without even asking me.”

“I thought it was time. You were doing better - better than you had in years. I thought maybe,” she sighed, then. “I thought maybe you were ready to face your past.”

Jessica gritted her teeth. “Maybe there's some things not worth remembering.”

“But aren't you even curious?” Trish stared at her with pleading eyes. “I've been looking through what my mother had, and now I have more questions than answers. Did you know IGH doesn't even officially exist? There's no record of it anywhere!”

“While that is _fascinating,_ I'm sure, you're still not listening to me.”

“But don't you want to know? They could still be out there! They could still be - be experimenting on people.”

“And so what if they are?” Jessica swallowed down her own guilty conscience and forced her lip into a sneer. “It's not my problem.”

“Well it should be someone's problem.” Trish seemed to struggle to collect herself. “Look, I know it's a bad time now, and I respect that. I really do. But I'm making headway here, Jess. I could uncover something really big.”

“So you're just chasing a story?” Typical.

“I'm chasing the truth! I've seen what having these powers has done to you. I know how alone and scared you used to feel. Don't you think we should know if they're doing that to more people?” Her eyes pleaded with her. “I'm just trying to protect you. And… I want to make sure they don't come back.”

Jessica's veins turned to ice.

“What do you mean by that?”

Trish looked uncomfortable. “It's strange, right? To give someone powers and then just… let you go? I have to make sure they aren't going to collect on their investment.”

Jessica's hand came up to clutch her stomach reflexively. Her mind whirled.

“I didn't want to alarm you, but… yeah. That's what I've been working on.”

“I don't want anything to do with this,” Jessica said. “I've got… I've got other problems, Trish.”

Trish's warm hands closed around hers. Jessica looked back up to meet her eyes.

“Let me handle this, then.”

“It's dangerous,” she said weakly.

“Good thing I know a team of superheroes,” Trish joked. “Really, Jess, I'll be careful. If anything looks dangerous, I'll get you guys for backup. Easy peasy.”

“It's never that easy.” 

“Have a little faith.”

Faith was more of Matt's prerogative, but Jessica nodded anyway.

“I promise,” Trish said. “If anything substantial comes up, I'll let you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 is still making me crazy, but chapter 10 is rolling along smoothly. Sometimes you've gotta just skip and write ahead and come back. 9 is necessary, just hard to get the flow and tone right. I'm giving myself tonal whiplash between the domestic fluff and the drama.
> 
> A huge thank you, by the way, for the flood of comments I've gotten! You guys are the best. It really cheered me up. I've reread them all several times.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the Night Nurse. Overwhelmed. Support systems.

He was pretty sure people were staring.

“You're thinking too loud, Matt.”

Matt clenched his jaw and focused on limping down the sidewalk without crushing Foggy's arm in his death grip. The mild limp from last night had turned to sharp, painful swelling over the course of the night. Foggy wouldn't tell him, but he was also sure that his face was a mess of bruises and his knuckles were split.

He looked like a walking call to adult protective services.

“Relax,” Foggy said. He pulled open the front door to the Night Nurse's clinic and let out a wave of hospital smell. Matt wrinkled his nose. “I know you hate hospitals, but this is better than getting stitched up on your couch again.”

Matt would beg to differ, but he stood no chance against Foggy's insistence that he get his ankle x-rayed. He let himself be dragged inside.

The Clinic was open to the public during the day, but the residents of Hell's Kitchen, for the most part, had no idea that at night it became the base of operations for the three women who wore the title of Night Nurse. The superpowered community, however, were coming to know this place as a neutral ground.

Matt appreciated what they were doing, but the building still made his skin crawl. It had more humming equipment than any clinic had a right to have, and the smell of sickness and injury never fully washed out. It was dizzying, and from one moment to the next he was never sure if he was really here of if he was on a bed with acid burns all across his face, screaming for his dad. He shivered and clutched Foggy's arm tighter.

The receptionist perked up when they arrived, but Matt's battered appearance and obvious disability seemed to throw her for a loop. She recovered after stammering for a moment.

“Hello, did you need to see someone today?”

“We're here to see Claire Temple,” Foggy said confidently. 

“I'll see if we have someone by that name,” the woman said smoothly. She excused herself to the back room. Matt tracked her footsteps to the back.

“Claire, someone just asked for you by name,” he heard her say.

“Who?” Claire's voice was sharp.

“I didn't get their names. It was two men. White. Both wearing suits. One if them is, um, he's visually impaired, the other's blonde -”

“It's okay,” Claire said. “I know them. Send them back.”

The receptionist returned. “She said she can see you now.”

Matt let Foggy handle the pleasantries and waited for him to help him hobble back to one of the exam rooms. Someone walked past them, and he shivered again. Dr. Palmer - normally a nice enough woman - always carried a sharp, electric smell-sound-taste that he couldn't place on top of the smell of chemicals and blood. He let Foggy handle the awkward greetings in passing with her as well and rolled his tongue around his tingling gums. 

“Matthew Murdock,” Claire's voice interrupted his fevered musings. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“The usual kind,” he said lamely.

“Claire,” Foggy said warmly. “You look good. The Clinic looks amazing, too.”

“Our benefactor, Mr. Rand, has spared no expense,” she said dryly. “Now what have you let Matt get into?”

“Oh, you know him; he just has a nose for trouble.” 

There was a pause. It took Matt a moment to realize that they were looking at him for a response. He forced his focus back in, tried to ignore the hum of machines in the next floor, someone coughing two rooms down, the receptionist typing something in her computer with excessive clack clack clacks and the smell of antiseptic burning his nostrils and the metal and paper and plastic and blood and his skin felt hot and where was his dad _I can't see_ -

He was on a chair. Someone's hand was holding the back of his neck so his head was between his knees. His chest hurt, and he sucked in a shuddering breath.

“That's good, Matt,” Claire's low voice said. She must have been on the floor because her voice was in his ear. “Slow breaths. In - hold - out. Good. Foggy, you can let go.”

The hand on his neck was gone. He could hear Foggy's heart pounding in his ears. Claire's was a steady rhythm.

“You're at my clinic,” she continued. “It's Friday, about nine in the morning. Can you speak yet?”

His tongue felt like sandpaper. 

“What,” he rasped out. “What happened?”

“You had an anxiety attack,” she said. “Foggy, can you -?”

“Got it.”

There was a paper cone pressed into his hand now. He dutifully drank the water.

“You, uh, weren't joking about not liking hospitals,” Foggy said awkwardly into the silence.

“I'm sorry,” Matt said.

“You don't have to apologize,” Claire said.

“I can usually handle it,” he insisted stubbornly.

The nurse's warm, dry hand slipped into his shaking, clammy one.

“You're handling it just fine,” she said. “Now, do you need to try to relax for a minute, or do you want to get this over with?”

“Option two,” he said.

“Okay,” she said simply. “Is it okay for Foggy to help you? I need to x-ray your ankle, and if you're okay with it, I'd like to go ahead and scan your ribs and arms while you're here. Is that okay with you?”

He nodded. Claire had been wanting to look at his bones for years at this point. He took the gown she handed him and helped Foggy start removing any clothes that may have metal in them.

“You holding up okay, buddy?”

Matt lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I'm fine, Foggy.”

“You always say that,” he said gently. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

Matt forced down his irrational urge to snap at him. 

“I was in the hospital when I was a kid,” he bit out. “It's not good memories.”

“Oh.” Foggy sounded remorseful. He tied the gown shut in the back, over Matt's boxers and undershirt. “I thought you just didn't want to go because of your, uh, night job.”

“That's most of the reason,” Matt said tiredly. “I also don't want too many questions. I mean, look at me. I look like a domestic violence case.”

“I can't really argue. You kind of do.”

Claire knocked at the door and gestured for them to follow her to the room with the x-ray machines. Matt swallowed his trepidation and followed her instructions as she led him through taking x-rays of several parts of his body.

“Okay, we're good,” Claire said. “You can go back to the exam room and put your clothes back on. I'll be there in a minute.”

Matt let Foggy limp him back and get his clothes back on. His friend wisely didn't say anything else.

Claire was back in a few minutes. 

“Good news,” she said. “Your ankle isn't broken.”

“That's good,” Foggy said hopefully.

“The not-so-good news,” she continued. “Is that even from a glance at the x-rays, your body is a wreck, Matt.”

Foggy's heart thumped in his ears. Matt offered a weak shrug. 

“Is that supposed to be news?” His mouth quirked into a bitter smile. “I'm aware.”

“How bad is it?” Foggy asked.

“Matt?” She asked.

“Foggy can hear my medical information,” he said to her silent question.

“He's broken several ribs in the past,” she directed to Foggy. “The damage in his hands and arms is degenerative - I think he's looking at a bad case of arthritis in the future. It's not that bad yet, but if you keep punching every night and getting buildings dropped on you, Matt, you're going to lose a lot of mobility in your joints. Not to mention chronic pain, which from the shape your body is in, I'm surprised you don't complain of it now.”

Matt tried to school his expression. If she only knew the half of it. Pain and him went way back.

Foggy was quiet. Claire moved to open some cabinets. 

“Ice, ibuprofen, and rest,” she said. “I'm going to wrap your ankle and I suggest a brace, but the first three are the most important.”

Matt held still while she gently tugged his shoe and sock off to survey the damage. Her hands were cool on his hot skin.

“How'd you do this, anyway?” she asked.

“Patch of ice.” He smiled ruefully. “Foot slipped.”

He could sense Foggy's guilty fidgeting. 

“I wasn't trying to get hurt,” he said.

“I'm sure you weren't,” Claire said distantly as she wrapped his ankle with sports wrap. “Just be careful out there. If I thought you'd listen, I'd say no Daredeviling for a few weeks, but I know you'll hear a cat stuck in a tree or something before then. Just be careful.”

He made a noncommittal sound. There was a significant silence, and Foggy mumbled something about going to the restroom. The door opened and shut again with a substantial thud.

“What's going on, Matt?”

“Nothing's going on.”

“When are you going to respect me enough to stop feeding me bullshit?”

“I do respect you,” he said quietly.

“Then tell me what's wrong.”

“It's nothing.”

“Matt…”

“Really,” he said. “I'm just stressed. It's nothing that can be fixed immediately.”

Claire sighed. “I worry about you. You're taking stupid risks again.”

“I'll stop.”

“I hope you do.” She sighed again, heavier, and he was suddenly engulfed in her arms. He leaned into the embrace, inhaling the smell of hospitals and spices that clung to her. “You're not alone anymore. Don't destroy yourself trying to tackle everything yourself.”

He didn't respond.

She let go and busied herself putting his shoe back on. 

“I'm serious. Stay off the ankle for a while. Take care for once.”

“I'll try.”

“That's all I can ask.”

She handed him his cane and helped him to his feet. The bindings stabilized his ankle, and he limped a little less.

“Thank you, Claire.”

Her voice sounded sad. “I'm here, Matt. For anything.”

He nodded and found Foggy in the hallway outside.

“You ready to go?” Foggy had forced himself to sound cheery again. “Want to call a cab to take you home?”

Matt hesitated. “Can you, uh, take me to Jessica's?”

“Sure thing, man. At least then I'll know you're not alone and you won't trip and crack your head open on something.”

“You worry too much, Foggy.”

“One of us has to,” Foggy said quietly. “Come, let's get you to your lady love.”

They left the clinic in companionable silence. The cold wind stung Matt's nose and cheeks while he waited for Foggy to hail a cab. He listened to the ever-present noise of the city. The hive of human activity he'd always known. He felt his shoulders relaxing. 

“Cab, Matt,” Foggy said.

“Coming.” Matt carefully made his way over, mindful of ice. Foggy gently guided him into the cab, and he was grateful. It was good sometimes to not have to be competent all the time. Being with Foggy felt like a break from both being hyper-vigilant as Daredevil and his performative blindness in the everyday. Foggy was just there and offering help with no judgement for accepting the help.

“Thank you,” he said once they were in the cab and Foggy had rattled off the address to the driver.

“Don't mention it,” Foggy said. “You're my best friend, man.”

“Yeah,” Matt choked out. His emotions were all out of whack. He blamed the creeping exhaustion and feeling of fragility his episode at the clinic had left in its wake. “You are the best, Foggy.”

“Of course I am,” he agreed cheerfully.

The rest of the ride to Jessica's was quiet.

Foggy helped him out again when they got there. He hovered, though the cab was waiting to take him to Hogarth's. 

“You're going to be okay going up?”

“I'll be fine, Foggy. There's an elevator and everything.”

“It's ADA-compliant, right?”

“Yes, it's ADA-compliant.”

“Okay,” he said. “I just worry, man.”

“I'm fine. Go.”

“Okay, okay. I'm gone.”

Matt shook his head and went inside. He realized halfway up the elevator that he'd never told Jessica that he was coming. It was a bit too late now. The elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors rolled open.

He limped only a little down the hallway, his cane a steady tap tap tap on the tile. He knocked briefly and opened the door.

His ankles were immediately attacked by Iggy. The cat wound himself around his feet and meowed plaintively. Matt leaned over to rub his ears.

“You haven't been answering your phone.”

Uh oh. Matt kept his head angled down. “I'm sorry.”

“I had to hear from Foggy that you'd gone out, and then I had to hear from him again, telling me you were going to the clinic. Look at me, damn It.”

He lifted his face. He heard Jessica's quiet sigh.

“You look terrible.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You idiot,” she said quietly.

He didn't know what to say to defuse this. He held his arms out to her.

“I'm sorry,” he said again. “Please?”

Whatever misgivings she was wrestling with, he still heard her sigh with an air of resignation.

“Get over here,” she said. 

He didn't have time to respond before he felt her arms around him. He was about to relax into what he believed was a hug before the muscles in her arm tensed and flexed, and he was being swung into the air.

“Jess,” he bit out in a panic.

“Relax,” she said.

He was in a bridal carry. The madwoman was carrying him through the apartment. He clutched her shoulder and scowled.

“Jess,” he said again, more firmly.

“I said relax.” She carried him into the bedroom and set him down on the bed. “I'm going to put a leash on you if you don't stop running off to punch people when you're upset.”

“I'm sorry,” he said again.

“I would be more mad at you if you didn't look so pathetic. What happened to your face?”

“Took on too many people at once. One of them got a lucky shot in.”

He heard the whisper of her hair on her shoulders as she shook her head. Her thin hands started tugging at his clothes.

“You look like shit,” she said. “And Foggy already told me you had a panic attack at the clinic.”

“Foggy has been telling you too much,” he said sternly. “I don't get panic attacks.”

“Right,” she said. “Of course you don't.”

“I don't.”

“I don't want to argue, Matt.”

“Neither do I.” He was down to his underclothes again. He felt exhaustion tugging at the edges of his awareness. “Jessica.”

“Let's take a nap,” she said. Her heard her jeans hit the floor. The bed sank under her weight. “We can argue later.”

Later was good. He could do later. He felt the cat jump up to lay by his feet. The radiator clicked in the background. The warmth soaked into his aching bones. 

His eyes fluttered closed, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if Claire and Foggy's handling of an anxiety attack isn't medically accurate. I couldn't find the info I needed online, and my experiences of having frequent panic attacks doesn't necessarily mean I know the best way to deal with them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt takes a nap. Jessica reads. The question of diet. Communication is attempted. Gratuitous blind jokes.

Whatever was going through Matt's head, he'd seemed to work himself into exhaustion. He didn't stir when Jessica slipped out of bed and pulled her pants back on.

An hour had been enough nap for her. She tiptoed out of the bedroom as quietly as she could to go back to the comfort of her office. Matt was lucky she had no appointments today, so he could sleep on. Even Malcolm was taking a day off after his photos of a very bendy and naked yoga session had put a little money into the bank.

She worried her lower lip. There wasn't anything to be done about Matt until he woke up again. There wasn't really anything to be done about Trish and her investigation into IGH, either. Here she was, stuck between her two closest companions and their obsessions. She sighed again and took one of the baby books out of where she'd moved them to her desk drawer and started flipping through it.

It was actually interesting stuff. She was surprised. Her experience with babies was severely limited, to say the least, but the chapter she was reading about the actual biological process her body was going through was interesting. She was deep into reading about placentas and umbilical cords when she heard Matt stirring in the other room. She looked up when he limp-shuffled through the kitchen. His hair stuck up in three directions, and he was still in his underwear.

“You awake or you sleepwalking?” She called.

“I'm awake,” he mumbled. 

She set the book down and stared at him. He seemed lost. 

“I'm going to make some coffee,” she said.

“Sounds good.” Matt shuffled over and sat at her dining table. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. “Actually… should you be drinking coffee?”

She blinked. “Why wouldn't I drink coffee?”

He hesitated. “Isn't it… bad for the baby?”

What.

No?

She picked the book back up and flipped through it until she found the nutrition section. She hadn't even thought about it. Food was food, right? She glanced at the foods to avoid list.

Alcohol. Caffeine. Nitrates and nitrites. Cold deli meats. Rare steak.

She slammed the book shut.

“What does it say?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Jess?” He seemed caught between a laugh and a sigh. “Come on, just read it to me.”

“How about I just lie to you?”

“I'll know if you lie.”

“Not if I lie a lot… really fast.”

The laughter finally seemed to win. His whole face wrinkled in that endearing way.

“So no coffee?” He said.

“Doesn't look like it.” She found herself sulking. “No bacon or rare steak, either. Or alcohol.”

“It's just a few months,” he said hopefully.

“Says the guy who can eat as much bacon and coffee as he wants.”

He got up from his chair then and draped himself over the top of her desk chair. His chin rested on the crown of her head.

“I know it's not fair,” he said. He sounded genuinely mournful. “You get the shitty end of the deal, here. But I promise I'll do everything I can to make it better for you. I'll even give up coffee.”

She sighed. “No, that's not fair. How will you survive your court cases without coffee?”

His laugh rumbled over her head. “Maybe I'll be a better lawyer if I'm grumpy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you'll finally snap and beat the other lawyer with the little hammer thing the judge has.”

“That's one way to lay down the law.” He hummed. “How about some tea, then? Less caffeine than coffee.”

“Sure,” she said. His chin lifted off her head. She turned to follow him with her eyes. His limping steps shuffled into the kitchen.

She followed him there while he refilled the kettle and gathered the tea things. His movements were measured, calm. He moved as fluidly in her kitchen as he did his own. 

“What aren't you saying?” His back was turned to her, but his head cocked in her direction.

Jessica crossed her arms and leaned her hip on the counter. 

“I'm wondering if we need to talk.”

“If you're going to lecture me, save it.” He turned back to her and raised his eyebrows in challenge.

She felt her own eyebrows climb up. “Are you picking a fight?”

Matt faltered at that. All the fight seemed to drain out of him. He slumped against the counter.

“No,” he said. “I don't - I don't want to fight.”

He was clenching his fists. Hard enough that the veins popped and the bruises stood out. She opened her mouth to mention it and thought better of it. Instead she walked back to the living room to scoop up Iggy and the throw she'd left on the couch.

“Okay,” she said. “Sit. Here, at the table.”

“I don't need to sit,” Matt protested.

“You also don't need to stand on your sprained ankle. Sit. I'm gonna make a snack, and your fat butt is hogging the kitchen.”

Matt looked like he wanted to argue, but the smile was winning on his face. 

“I don't have a fat butt,” he said instead as he limped over to her.

“You do.” She smacked it lightly for emphasis, earning her an indignant yelp. She wrapped the blanket around him and pushed him into the dining chair and unceremoniously dropped the cat in his lap. Satisfied, she walked back into the kitchen. “Peanut butter good enough for you?”

“That's fine,” he said. When she glanced back, he was absent-mindedly stroking Iggy's fur. She smiled and turned back to the cabinets. “I think you ate all the jam, though.”

He was right. Damn. “I have honey, though.”

“That works.”

She washed her hands and started making sandwiches. The kettle was gurgling towards a boil. She took a moment to note the absurdity. If only anyone she'd terrorized could see her now; making sandwiches and tea for her disaster vigilante lover who, now, was her disaster vigilante baby-daddy. Hogarth would shit herself laughing.

“I talked to Castle,” Matt said from the table.

“Oh, he's Castle today? You two must have had a fight.”

“Something like that,” he said distantly. He was scritching Iggy's ears when she glanced at them again. “Our methodologies don't mesh well.”

Jessica snorted. “Just figuring this out? He's your weird murder-friend, not mine.”

“You like him, though.”

She snorted again and brought the plate of sandwiches over. “So you two fought. Then you went and found another fight?”

“It was more like five more fights, really.” He shot her a hesitant grin. “When are the petty crooks going to stop trying to rob people in my neighborhood?”

“Maybe it's a kinky thing.” She turned back to the kettle and fixed the tea before it could start screaming. “Some kind of masochistic sex cult. 'Commit petty crime until the horny guy comes and punishes you for being a bad boy.’”

“...That's disgusting and improbable.”

“Less improbable than you'd think. Ask a PI - everything is a sex thing. Everything.” She brought the mugs to the table and joined him. “So, you talked to Frank and then felt the need to punch something. I follow you.”

“Yeah…” Matt's fingers toyed with the crust of his sandwich. His lips twitched into a distant smile. “I knew better. I know better. It's just…”

“Old habits,” she supplied.

“Something like that.” He sighed. “I did eventually talk to Foggy, so maybe I'm making progress.”

“Baby steps. Speaking of,” she added. “How did Foggy take the news?”

“What news?”

She rolled her eyes. “The baby, of course.”

There was a pregnant silence.

“I didn't… tell Foggy.”

Jessica's eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Matt's face was indignant. “I - you said to keep it a secret! I thought you meant…”

Jessica counted to ten and forced her shoulders to relax. When she spoke again, she was calm.

“So, when I said to keep this a secret, you took it literally?”

“Of course I took it literally. I respect your privacy, Jess.”

She couldn't help it. She burst into laughter. Matt's indignant and hurt face had her laughing harder. 

“Jessica? What - what are you laughing at?”

“Us,” she finally choked out. “God, Matt, we've got a long way to go, don't we?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was colored heavily with suspicion.

“Communication and all that shit. We suck at it.”

Matt relaxed, then, however marginally. A smile played around his lips.

“So, you thought I would tell Foggy?”

“I did. He's been texting me updates on you since yesterday. I figured he knew something.”

“That's because he thinks we're fighting.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well Trish thought you were going to propose.”

Matt choked on his first tentative sip of tea. “She - she what?”

“When you were being sketchy and sneaking off to fight Frank. She thought you were ring-shopping.”

“Oh. Well, no. None of that. I don't think trying to get married is a good idea right now. I haven't even thought of it.” He tilted his head hesitantly. “Have you?”

She shook her head. “I'm not the marrying kind, Murdock. And even if I was - you're right. This would be the absolute worst time to get hitched.”

“I'm glad we agree.”

They lapsed into silence. Jessica picked at her sandwich with her fingers.

“Can we take a break?” She finally asked.

Matt's head shot up.

“From the vigilante crap,” she clarified. She stared into her tea mug. “I mean, realistically, it's not like we can just stop fighting all the petty crime and these powered assholes that keep popping up. Someone's got to do it. Just - does it have to be us?”

Matt was quiet. “A break wouldn't be the worst idea,” he said slowly. 

She toyed with a small chip on the edge of her mug. She took a deep breath. “I have another appointment in two weeks. If you wanted to go. I mean, it's not like you can see the ultrasound. And you can already hear the heartbeat, probably. So maybe it's pointless.”

“Jessica, I'll go to your appointment.” He shook his head at her when she glanced at him. “Of course I'll go.”

She nodded wordlessly. “It might be a good time, then. To tell the others,” she added.

Matt leaned back in his chair. “You'll have ultrasound photos to show them then, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It's a good idea. I think a break will be good. Claire will be happy that I'm letting my ankle heal.”

Jessica nodded again. Her skin crawled, but Matt didn't push. She hated herself for beating around the bush like this, but baring herself to others wasn't her strong suit. It was much easier to keep people at a distance. She thought wistfully about the bottles of whiskey she and Malcolm had poured down the drain. A veil of alcohol helped fuel her belligerence, but she had responsibilities now. Even if the detox had her feeling ten kinds of discomfort.

“At least I don't have to lie to my clients this time,” Matt said, interrupting her train of thought. His face split into a self-deprecating smirk. “I really did slip on the ice this time.”

She smirked too. “Good thing. You're a terrible liar.”

“Come on, I'm not that bad.”

“Sweetheart,” she said dryly. “You are the worst liar I've ever heard. I don't know how you got through law school.”

“Passion and smooth-talking,” he admitted. “Plus some people feel guilty arguing with a disabled guy.”

“That's bullshit.”

“That's life,” he said with a shrug.

She leaned her elbows on the table and let herself genuinely smile at him. He looked rather silly, now that she looked at him - sitting at the table with his sleep-tousled hair and his rumpled underclothes, picking his sandwich apart with his fingers. She was an odd mix of nervous and excited to take time off fighting crime.

“So, what are we going to do without beating people up?”

Matt smiled and chuckled quietly. “I don't know. I've been fighting for years now. Guess we'll finally catch up on our Netflix binging.”

“You mean pretend we're real people? Just relax?”

“Sounds good.”

She nodded and slipped her tea. Relaxing sounded… amazing.

“Well, I mean we could take a couple's painting class instead.”

“Oh my God, Matt.”

“Go sightseeing.”

“Stop.”

“Ride one of those bicycles built for two. I'll take the front seat.”

“One more blind joke, Murdock, and I'm going to strangle you.”

“Alright, alright...” There was a heavy pause. “I see your point.”

“That's it!” She dove across the table and mimed strangling him.

They were both laughing too hard to argue anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally this beast of a chapter is finished. It started out as Matt and Jessica having a huge argument, but it just wasn't working. Scrapped that and kept mangling it together until it became this. Whatever this is.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Foggy do lunch. Sometimes you do choose your families. An accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seasonal depression and I are having it out right now. I'm clinging to my Thursday update schedule as a motivator. Please enjoy.

Walking into Hogarth's law firm always gave Matt an intense feeling of deja vu.

The smell was nearly the same as Landman & Zach's - coffee, ink, and warm paper fresh from the printer. There was the same low bustle of attorneys, clients, maintenance staff, and the reeking desperation and exhaustion of the interns. Computer keys clacked, and people's fortunes were made and broken in these offices. He didn't regret his choice to leave and strike out on his own. The atmosphere made his skin crawl.

People parted like the Red Sea around his swinging cane. He could feel the idle stares crawling across his skin, but it was nothing new. He kept a pleasant smile on his face and felt his way over to the receptionist desk.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist's tone changed immediately as she looked up and saw him properly. “Oh, Mr. Murdock! Are you here to see Mr. Nelson?”

“You've got me,” Matt said with his most charming smile. 

The young woman's heart sped up and heat rose to her skin. “I'll give him a call. Would you mind just waiting here? I think he's with a client.”

“No rush,” he said pleasantly. “We were just going to grab lunch.”

“Of course, Mr. Murdock. Give me just a moment.”

Matt wandered over to a waiting area and took a seat. It was cheating, perhaps, but he could hear Foggy in his office from here. He was already wrapping up with the client. He settled in to wait and entertained himself snooping on the people in this floor. The morality was sketchy, but what else was he to do?

Foggy didn't disappoint. He came to the front in record time.

“Matt,” he said. “Lunch time?”

He didn't bother replying verbally. He just returned the loose, one-armed hug Foggy gave him and followed his friend to the elevator.

Once the elevator doors shut, he asked, “Busy day?” 

“Not too bad,” Foggy answered. “Someone's trying to sue Heroes for Hire again, but you know Hogarth represents them personally, so that's not going anywhere.”

“She's a hardass, for sure. Anything exciting you're working on?”

“Nothing I can talk about,” he answered cheerfully. “So what's for lunch?”

“I was thinking that Moroccan place you like.”

“The one with the really good tabouli? Yes!” The elevator dinged, and Foggy led them out. “If you're buttering me up, it's working.”

“It's good to know your loyalties are so easily bought.”

“Only for you, my friend. I usually need a retainer. You get the friendship discount.”

“I'm honored.”

Foggy kept the conversation flowing as they walked. Matt knew he was suspiciously quiet, but Foggy gracefully skirted around his silence.

“So, what's the deal?” 

They were seated and ordered. Foggy leaned his elbows on the table to steeple his hands. Matt could imagine his raised eyebrows.

He busied himself arranging his silverware. “Deal?”

“Oh don't play coy with me now, Matt. You're buying me lunch. You've got your guilty face on. Why don't we just get it over with?”

He had him there. He sighed heavily and mirrored Foggy's pose.

“You're right. And you were right the other night. I am hiding something from you.”

There was a significant silence.

“I'm raising my eyebrows at you. Well? What is it? Another villain hiding in the shadows? A twisted scheme on my life? You're running for political office. You're thinking about getting a perm? Please don't.”

“I - no, it's not any of those things.”

“Then hit me. How bad could it be?”

Matt opened his mouth and shut it. The waitress returned with their plates of food. He waited for her to walk away. Foggy picked up his fork. Matt decided to go for it before he could choke on his food.

“Jessica's pregnant.”

Foggy's fork clattered onto his plate.

“...Can you clarify?”

“Jessica is pregnant,” Matt said slowly. “You know? Having a baby?”

“I know what it means, Matt.” Foggy was sweating. He cleared his throat. “Wow. Okay. So I knew you were hiding something. But you're always hiding something. I thought… I don't know what I thought. Pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus.”

“Language.”

“Jesus, Matt, you can't just spring this on me.”

“It was kind of a surprise for us, too. Eat your lunch. It's getting cold.”

“You sound like a dad already.” Foggy picked up his utensils, but he didn't eat. “So… you're going to be a father.”

Matt swallowed. “Apparently.”

“So what happens now?”

“I don't know.” The weight crashed back down on him. “I really don't.”

“Hey,” Foggy's tone was compassionate. “We'll figure this out.”

“It's just-” Matt gritted his teeth and grabbed a fork to jab into his food. He poked it a few times helplessly. “There's too many loose ends? I never thought - Okay, so I never thought I would become a father. It wasn't something I ever dreamed of, but at the same time… I'm happy?”

“Happy is good.”

“I'm also… terrified.” 

“By which part?”

“Everything.” He sighed heavily. He finally took a bite and chewed it slowly. “Just… everything. Between Fisk, and the team, and all the suit-related problems, it seems ridiculous, but… how am I supposed to be a good father, Foggy?”

“Well, I think the fact that you're worried about it is a good start.”

Matt pursed his lips. “By what logic?”

“Well, a bad father wouldn't ask these questions,” he said reasonably. “I mean, if you care enough to worry about it, you can care enough to learn how to be a real good one.”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Of course it's not, but it's not like you're going to have to do it all yourself. You think I'm just gonna leave you to learn everything on your own? I'll have you know, I'm already a professional uncle. What's one more little niece or nephew?” Foggy shrugged for emphasis. “And you know my parents are gonna lose their minds when they find out. They love you. Mom's gonna try to kidnap both of you.”

Matt couldn't help but smile. He'd forgotten somewhere in his own misery about the Nelson brood. Mrs. Nelson was definitely going to lose her mind, if he could convince Jessica to allow a stranger to coo over her.

“It's gonna be okay, buddy. And I'm not just saying that. I believe it. Listen to my heart or whatever. It's all going to work out.”

And Matt so desperately wanted to believe it, too.

He left his lunch date with Foggy feeling lighter than he had in a week. The streets sang with the bustle at the end of the lunch hour, the push and shove of all these people living their noisy little lives. He normally tuned it out, but today he let it wash over him. He wasn't alone. 

He still had work to do. He carefully dammed up his focus and set off to find a grocery. Staying with Jessica over the weekend had led to the discovery of her complete fixation on sweets. He'd never known her to eat that much, but she'd eaten through all the jam, honey, and hazelnut spread in the apartment. Failure to return with more food would probably result in his immediate expulsion from the premises. He figured it was in his best interest to keep her fed and content.

He popped into a grocery and had to endure the usual rodeo of finding a manager and getting a shopping assistant. The entire ordeal never got less embarrassing and irritating, especially when people turned on the pity. He didn't need to be pitied. He just needed someone to read the labels for him.

He tried to keep his good mood from his lunch date buoyant, but the shopping trip, and then the walk juggling his cane, a few grocery sacks, and a sprained ankle had his mood flagging. He made it up to Jessica's floor and nearly sagged in relief. A certain combination of smells assaulted his nostrils. He was dropping the groceries and sprinting for her door almost before he processed them.

Blood. Tears. Whiskey. Fear sweat. 

He threw the door open and was halfway to the couch where Jessica was sitting before he'd even registered that Malcolm was also there. The first aid kit was open. The room stank of blood.

“Jessica?”

She sniffled hard, and he was pushing past Malcolm to kneel next to her before he could think.

“I'm fine,” she barked out. She reeked of blood and tears.

“What happened?”

Malcolm spoke up, “I think her finger needs stitches. I'm trying to get the bleeding to stop.” He reached with tacky fingers to gently lead Matt's hand to Jessica's. His fingers probed the edges of a wide gash on one finger and some smaller gashes on the palm. “We need to get her to Claire.”

“I can sew it,” Matt offered. He felt Jessica nod, and he gently nudged Malcolm out of his way. His hands moved almost on their own to grab more gauze and thread a needle.

“I dropped groceries outside,” he told Malcolm. “Could you go grab them?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He seemed grateful for someone else taking charge. He edged away.

Matt carefully cleaned up the wound. “I'm about to go for it. Maybe three stitches?”

“Just do it,” she said. Her jaw clenched.  
He stabbed the needle in and winced. It never got easier, inflicting pain on his loved ones to sew them up. He could cover it with a stoic mask, but he felt queasy every time. He could feel Jessica's muscles quivering with tension. He sewed faster.

“Done.” He cut the thread and helped her wind bandage over her hand. Malcolm's hands joined them, and it was mere moments before her hand was taped up and resting on a baggie of ice.

“Thank you, Malcolm,” Matt said quietly.

“No problem.” He dragged him to his feet and helped him to the kitchen sink. “I don't know what happened,” he added quietly under the sound of the running water. “She wouldn't say, but I pulled glass out of her hand.”

Matt nodded helplessly. His senses told him Malcolm had already put the perishable groceries in the fridge. The younger man was fidgeting.

“Thank you,” he said again. “Really.”

He shrugged. “It's - It's no problem. It's Jessica, you know?”

He wasn't sure exactly what Jessica meant to the young PI, but he nodded. The younger man nodded again shakily and rubbed his face.

“That was way more exciting than I'd planned for today.”

“I agree.”

“I've got work to do, anyway. Take care of Jessica?”

Matt nodded wordlessly. He listened to the sound of the camera bag being zipped up and papers shuffled. The PI quietly told Jessica he was leaving, and the door shut behind them. The apartment was quiet.

Matt shucked off his suit jacket and tie. He found his discarded cane carefully folded on the table. He dropped his glasses there, too, and moved into the other room to lock the front door. Jessica was still silent. He cautiously closed the distance between them.

“What happened?”

The ice pack crunched under her fingers. 

“Nothing,” she said.

He sighed and sat beside her. Her body radiated tension. He wasn't sure what she needed. Gentleness? Firmness? Pushing? Distance? He settled for offering his hand. After a moment, she took it in her uninjured hand and threaded their fingers together.

“Did someone hurt you?” He had to ask. The idea of anyone hurting her made his blood boil.He clenched his jaw.

“No,” she said. “Nobody hurt me.”

“Then help me understand why I just had to sew your finger back together.”

“It was an accident, okay?”

He decided to drop it. He carefully shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch. Maybe it was time to change the subject.

“Foggy's happy for us,” he said casually.

He felt her body perk up a little.

“I don't think I ever told you about his family,” he continued in a light, conversational tone. His words seemed to be draining the tension out of her. He kept talking. “His dad's a butcher, and his brother's taking over the family business. They're locals, right here in Hell's Kitchen. His dad makes the best pastrami on rye in the city - or at least that's what Foggy will tell you. He goes there on his lunch breaks sometimes just for a sandwich. Says getting one anywhere else just doesn't feel right.”

Jessica was still quiet, but she'd scooted closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating against his own.

“I'll never forget my first Christmas at Columbia. I didn't have anywhere to spend the break except maybe mooching from the orphanage. When Foggy heard? Oh man. It was like being kidnapped. A Nelson in a truck showed up and drove us back to his parents’ place.” He laughed. “His mom didn't stop trying to feed me. She said I was too skinny. They even went to Midnight Mass with me, even though they aren't Catholic. I'd only known Foggy for four months, and they just… adopted me.”

Jessica cleared her throat. “That's… cute.”

Matt nodded. “I'm very grateful to the Nelsons for everything.”

“It's a good story.”

He gathered his courage and went for it. “They'd love to meet you, you know?”

Jessica stiffened against him.

“Not any time soon,” he hastened to add. “They can be a little loud. I just know they'd love you.”

“People don't like me, Murdock.” Her voice was bitter.

“Bullshit,” he said cheerfully. “Plenty of people like you. And you've met Foggy, right? He's kind of an asshole.”

That startled a bark of laughter out of her. 

“So you know what a dick he can be, and they still love him. I think they'll think you're funny.”

“If you say so,” she muttered, but he could pick up the hint of a smile in her voice.

The silence was more comfortable after that. Matt listened to her heart beat and tried to suss out whether he could hear the baby inside her or if it was just her organs. He usually politely ignored the gurgling, squelching sounds happening inside of everyone if he listened hard enough. He thought he heard a small flutter, but maybe he was imagining it.

“I broke a bottle,” Jessica said.

Matt shifted closer to her. She took the bait and let him wrap her in his arms and carefully draw her and her ice pack into a less tense sprawl across the couch.

“Malcolm and I poured out all the whiskey,” she continued. “It's… I shouldn't drink it. I was just - tired. I just needed something.”

He nodded.

“I walked to the bodega I usually go to. Grabbed a bottle of Turkey.” She inhaled shakily. “I didn't even think about it. I just wanted to be numb. Then I remembered the baby, and I…” 

She trailed off. Matt opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

“I didn't mean to break it. I just squeezed too hard. It didn't even hurt. And then the next thing I remember I was here, and Malcolm was here, and then you were here.”

“You're okay.”

The ice pack crunched again, the cubes squeaking against each other.

“I'm tired of being fucked up,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”

It was inadequate. He knew it was. But then Jessica's good hand squeezed his own and she curled in closer to rest her head on his collarbone, and he thought maybe it would be okay. One day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication. Insecurity. Hey, nobody's perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies. I skipped a week for Thanksgiving, and I had some not-good things happening IRL. Still reeling a bit, but it's nothing too terrible, i promise. Writing 4 stories simultaneously can be a lot of work, too. Totally self-inflicted.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a bit weird. I realized in the first draft that I was basically writing a list, so I trashed it and narrowed down to one scene that hopefully conveys - in her own stilted way - what Jessica's thinking.

The window rattled as another gust of wind battered against it. Her fingers paused momentarily in their scurry across the keyboard. The window rattled again.

Jessica tugged her hoodie zipper up minutely and shivered. Matt's apartment always felt like an icebox in the winter. His radiator couldn't keep up with the echoing space, large windows, and the chill that crept down from the roof exit. She knew from experience that his silk sheets were icy cold.

She cast a glance at the owner of the apartment. Even he had given in and thrown a blanket over his shoulders. He'd tucked his pants into his socks again, too. She frowned.

“You ever thought about getting some space heaters?”

He had an earbud in one ear, but his head tilted. Her question interrupted an hour of productive silence between them.

“Thought about it,” he said. “They dry my nose out.”

That was apparently that. He went back to whatever he was doing. Her frown deepened.

“So buy a humidifier.”

He sighed shortly through his nose. “I don't want to buy a humidifier. This is fine.”

“It's freezing in here.”

He finally pulled his earbud out and gave her his full attention.

“You were the one who wanted to come to my place tonight. Yours is warmer. We could have gone there.”

“I wanted to go here,” she said. 

He opened his mouth to argue and shut it again. He shook his head and shuffled through his paperwork. She tried again.

“I just think it's stupid. You're obviously uncomfortable. Why not fix the problem?”

“I'm not uncomfortable,” he said. He tilted his head at her and opened his mouth. He shut it abruptly. Her eyes narrowed. His head tilted again as he listened to something only he could hear. His hands clenched into fists.

“Everything okay?”

He shook himself out of it. He zeroed back in on her. 

“What? Yes. What were you saying?”

“Nothing.” She rubbed at her temples, nearly knocking her laptop off her knees in the process. “It was nothing.”

The red lenses of his glasses peered at her. The man attached to them sighed. The papers and laptop were stuffed back into order and packed away. He got up and wandered to his room. She heard him shuffling around in there. When he came out, he had his sneakers and coat on and a duffle bag.

“Where are you going?” She hated how startled she sounded.

Matt grimaced. “I'm gonna just... go out for a bit. Take a walk. Clear my head. You'll be okay?”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“I'm fine.” He mustered a weak smile. “I'm sorry, Jess. That case I'm working on is just stressing me out. I need some air.”

That was the lamest excuse she'd ever heard, but she nodded along just to see how it would go. Matt nodded and smiled a little wider. He swooped over to give her a peck on the lips and let himself out.

He left Jessica in turmoil.

He was obviously lying. Nobody went out in weather like this to “get some air.” So he either thought she was an idiot or he really was the most useless liar she'd ever met. She was hoping it was more of the latter than the former. What he was trying to cover up was another issue entirely.

She was 85% sure he was Daredeviling.

He'd promised. That was the thing she seethed about as she shoved her feet into boots and bundled up. He'd promised to stop for just two fucking weeks, and yet every time she looked up, he was tilting his head and making that tortured face he made when someone was stopping him from performing feats of suicidal heroism. He played it off, but she wasn't an idiot. 

She was pretty sure Matt would die if he stopped being Daredevil, and she wasn't sure where that left her.

She locked up - because wow, this was her life now with matching keys and a bottle of her shampoo in the shower - and made her way to street level. She should have taken the roof and maybe have had a better chance of tracking him from a distance. As it was, she followed her gut.

The thing was, she had no idea where he was going. She suspected he had his suit in the bag, but unlike the cartoons, there were no convenient telephone booths to change in. She picked a direction and found a rooftop to leap to.

There - a white cane swinging side to side and a puffy shock of brown hair. She followed from the rooftops.

How do you track a man who could literally smell you coming? She grit her teeth and just hoped she was far enough away, keeping him just in sight as he wandered deeper into the older parts of Hell's Kitchen. She had played him before in his little games, when he'd made just enough noise trying to sneak up on her that she could usually expect him. She figured now that letting her catch him was his way of flirting. The problem today was more of how to keep up.

Between one blink and the next, she lost sight of him. She cursed and hopped down to the next rooftop and strained her eyes. Nothing.

A slight scuff on the icy roof. She whirled around.

Matt was on the roof now, too. His ears and cheeks were pink from the cold. He looked sullen.

“Why are you following me?”

She dug her heels in and took a deep breath. “I thought you snuck off to go fight crime.”

Matt didn't look surprised, but he looked hurt. Jessica was starting to feel a little bad. Especially when a gust of wind set them both to shivering.

“I promised you I wouldn't. You don't trust me?”

Ouch. Below the belt.

“I trust you more than I trust anybody else,” she said honestly. “Which is a lot for me, but trust you when you're acting cagey? You can't blame a girl for being cautious.”

Matt opened his mouth and was cut off by another freezing gust of wind. His teeth chattered.

“Can we not do this here? Watching you freeze to death isn't entertaining,” she said.

“Yeah, come on.” Matt clambered back down his little parkour route. Jessica followed.

Sheltered a bit by the alley, Matt turned back to her.

“You could have just asked me where I was going.”

“I did. You lied.”

“I didn't lie.”

“You sure as hell didn't tell the truth.”

“I didn't - do you really need to know where I am 24/7? Are you my parole officer now?”

“I need to know when you're going to go off and do something stupid.”

“I'm not doing anything stupid! Jesus Christ, Jessica, what is your problem?”

“What's yours? You're the idiot running around with no hat.”

“You're mad about a hat?”

“I'm mad about a lot of things,” she snapped. “I'm mad that you hide things from me. I'm mad that you shut me out. We've been sitting around playing house for a week, and you can't even look happy about it. Is spending time with me that repulsive?”

She couldn't look at him. She kept her eyes on the walls of the alley, the random bits of trash caught in the snow drifts.

“You're being ridiculous.”

Her eyes snapped back to glare at him. He glared back in kind.

“Ridiculous?”

“Yes, ridiculous. Why would you just assume I don't like spending time with you?”

“Maybe because you get that stupid look on your face all the time.”

“What, when I'm listening? I already explained to you that I can't turn it off.”

She snarled and stepped away to kick a piece of garbage. She could feel the weight of Matt's senses bearing down on her. She snarled again.

“Save it. Stop listening to my heart and shit.”

Matt sighed and lifted his shoulders into his Voice of Reason stance. The one he used when he was talking Danny out of doing something stupid or when he was pretending he was the group leader. She gritted her teeth.

“Jess, you're being irrational.”

“News flash, genius, I'm a pregnant chick. We get to be irrational.”

His forehead furrowed.

“Can you just stop being difficult?” He seemed to realize who he was talking to because he was already shaking his head. “Or less difficult. Marginally. Anything. Or just tell me what you're really upset about.”

“I told you.”

“What, you think I lied to you about Daredevilling? I told the truth. I haven't gone out all week.”

She pinched her lips together. Matt's head was cocked towards her. She could feel him studying her like a puzzle through the nervous thrum of her own anxiety.

“Come on,” he said. “It's freezing. Let's get out of here.”

She was shivering. She'd tried not to notice. She relented when Matt hefted his gym bag and gently took her arm. He limped a little as they shuffled out of the alley.

“This way,” he said.

He led her down the street. They stopped in front of a shabby old building. “Fogwell's Gym” was printed on the door.

“This is where you run off to?” 

Matt gave her one of his distant, distracted smirks. He fumbled a key out of the bag with clumsy fingers and unlocked the door. Jessica's eyebrows rose higher.

“Who gave you a key?”

“Nobody. I stole it.”

He swept past her into the echoing old gym. She followed cautiously. It looked like it came straight out of a Rocky movie. Heavy bags and rows of lockers and a honest-to-God boxing ring illuminated by dim lights. It also smelled like an ancient tube sock. She wrinkled her nose.

“Fogwell's,” Matt said. He dropped his bag on a bench and unzipped it. “Best boxers in the Kitchen come out of this place.”

She didn't reply. She studied the posters on the wall instead. She heard the soft sounds of Matt unrolling his athletic tape. A poster caught her eye. Her stomach sank, and she swallowed.

“Battlin’ Jack Murdock, huh?”

Matt's movements barely faltered. He kept wrapping up.

“Want to tape up?”

She didn't particularly, but the weirdly hostile mood between them from outside persisted. She came closer to hold her hands out and let him fuss over them to his satisfaction. His red shades gleamed in the low light.

“I learned to box here,” he said. She followed him to a heavy bag. He gave it a few light, experimental hits. “No babysitter? Dad brought me to Fogwell's.”

She tested her wraps. He gave his bag a few more jabs.

“The guys thought it was cute. Taught me all about the sport when my dad wasn't looking. Took ages to convince my therapist that boxing's just exercise to me. She thought it was self-harm.”

Jessica shifted into what she thought might be a boxing stance and carefully tapped her bag. The little hit still sent the bag swinging.

“Loosen up a little,” Matt said.

She tried. She felt his hands ghost over her hips, shifting her minutely. His breath tickled the back of her neck.

“I know what you're doing,” she said. “I get it. You've been coming here instead of going out. I'm the judgemental bitch for assuming otherwise.”

She punched a little harder. The bag swung wildly out of control. Matt stepped forward to catch it.

“You don't have a good track record with honesty,” she justified.

“I try to be honest with you,” he said.

“Is this where we talk about boundaries?” Her voice came out more bitter than she intended.

“We're at therapy-talk now?” His mouth was a bitter twist. “What's really eating you, Jess?”

He was still holding the bag. She gave it a few more hits. Her knuckles burned. She grit her teeth and hit again. The force pushed a grunt out of Matt.

“You're not going to stop being Daredevil.”

He stilled. 

“I can tell already. Sitting around with a kid isn't for you. You need to be out here.” She hit the bag again for emphasis. “This is you.”

He swallowed heavily. His glasses hid his eyes.

“What are you saying?”

She stepped back and pushed her hair out of her face. Matt's head tilted at her. She hated how she wilted a little at the sight.

“Don't force yourself. You need to do this, then do it.”

“At the expense of you?”

She shrugged. He softened. Wrapped hands reached for her.

“Jess…” His arms hugging around her were warm. She tried to be strong, but the damn hormones and the cold and the stress caught up to her. She sagged into his embrace.

“I can do both, can't I?” The way he said it, it didn't sound rhetorical. He squeezed her tighter. “I'm not gonna just leave you. I need you.”

“You're such an idiot,” She said. “Can't even buy a space heater.”

He groaned and let her go. “You won't give up on that, will you?”

“You don't take care of yourself.”

“It's never been a priority for me.”

“I need it to be. You can't kill yourself.”

“And I don't want to.” His fingers gently trailed along her jaw. She reached up and plucked his glasses off. The rough pad of his thumb stroked the corner of her mouth. “I'm not lying. You can feel my heart if you want. I don't want to die, Jess.”

“I believe you.” She closed the distance and pressed a feather-light kiss onto his lips. “I'm just…”

“I know you're scared.” His teeth flashed into a smile. “I know. I'm terrified.”

She pulled back away from him. Tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “Let's, uh, punch some bags.”

He let her retreat and nodded. He stepped away from her to fall into the boxing stance that came as natural to him as breathing. The gym soon rang out with the meaty smack of his fists on the bag.

Jessica watched him. He was intoxicating to watch, all coiled tension and tightly-wound violence. She enjoyed watching him box more than watching the kung fu MMA stuff he did with Danny or the gratuitous flips he threw into his combat. This was Matt Murdock stripped raw. The real deal. A perfect distillation of who he was and where he came from. 

The poster of Jack Murdock winked at her in the background. What a bastard, leaving his son like that. Or she wanted to believe that, deep in the hurt little place that cried about the unfairness of her own parents’ deaths. Matt never talked about him poorly, though. She wondered if he would be proud of the man he became.

“You still with me, Jess?”

Her eyes snapped back to Matt. He was sweating now, a cocky grin playing around on his face.

“Still here,” she said.

The cocky grin transformed into something wider and infinitely more ridiculous. She felt her own face softening to match. This man. This ridiculous man.

When they left the gym, Matt started walking the wrong way. Jessica blinked for a moment in surprise before she jogged to catch up.

“Um, earth to Murdock. Did you go full-blind on me?”

He didn't pause. “You can head back if you want.”

“Where are you going?” She was finally caught up enough to take his free hand and tuck it into the crook of her arm.

He looked sheepish. “To buy some space heaters and a humidifier.”

She stared. “You're actually taking a suggestion?”

“You have a point. My apartment's freezing.”

“I'm gonna need to get that in writing. Matt Murdock admitting he's wrong?”

He shoved her good-naturally. “C'mon, Jess.”

“I'm coming with you. We're buying you a hat.”

“No hat. I hate hats.”

“You wear hats all the time.”

“Masks don't count.”

“What about ball caps?”

“Also don't count.”

“How do they not count?”

Arm in arm, they bickered their way down the sidewalk.


End file.
